An Apple for Teacher
by irish-schmirish
Summary: Zayn Malik always wanted to be an English teacher. Anastasia Holmes wanted to take Advanced Writing and Literary Analysis. The craziest part is, they thought they could keep a student/teacher relationship...
1. Chapter 1

**_Author's Note_**: I originally wrote this story a while ago and then it got taken down, but now it's back up :) I'll probably post 5-6 chapters at a time so it'll all be back up again in now time. Please review to let me know what you think of it and I hope you enjoy it! :)

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I pushed my way through the crowded halls in a desperate attempt to get to my class on the other side of campus before the bell rang, but I was running out of time. I was in eleventh year at St. Beatrice's, so despite my situation I still had to act cool, calm, and collected so the students in seventh and eighth year would not get to cocky, thinking they were better than the oldest students in the school. When I spotted an unfamiliar face I guessed it was a seventh or eighth year and purposely stood up a little straighter, pushing a strand of my long dark brown hair that had escaped from my braid behind my ear. A few other tenth and eleventh years around me did something similar to me, causing the young student to get a sudden frantic look in their eyes and dart off in a mad rush to their next class.

As the halls began to clear I found maneuvering my way to my second class of the day was becoming easier, however a few tenth and eleventh year boys were trying to be bold on their first day back at school by goofing off and dawdling in the halls as others passed through them. One of the boys started toward me, probably getting ready to do anything necessary to delay me, but I shot him a death glare that made him back up against the wall he had been leaning against before.

I heard the bell ring just as I made it to the wing of my large school where my Advanced Writing and Literary Analysis class was. I rushed down the hall as quietly as possible while the sound of teacher's voices giving brief explanations of their courses echoed all around me. I took a second outside the door of the classroom to compose myself before stepping in, trying to go unnoticed by the teacher at the head of the class who was speaking. Thankfully, I was successful because the teacher had his back turned to the class as he wrote his name on the chalkboard. I scanned the room, which was only half occupied with about twelve students, for a place to sit. One of my very good friends, Abby Dorris, waved to me from the row nearest the windows and pointed at the seat behind her, the third seat in the row. I quickly tip-toed around the back of the classroom over to the seat where I sank into my chair with a quiet sigh of relief.

"Hello," the teacher said, turning, "my name is Mr. Malik, my first name is Zayn, but I am your teacher so if you call me by my first name I will give you detention."

I could not help but blink a few times when I first saw him, as did the seven other girls in my class. He was unrealistically handsome. He was tall and muscular, with tan skin, sparkling hazel eyes, dark hair that was styled quite nicely, and he had an easygoing, warm smile that made you want to smile right back. I instantly slapped myself mentally as thoughts began to flow through my brain that should not have been, given that he was my teacher. I had signed up for this class because I love writing and I wanted to further my abilities so that someday I would have a very successful career as either a short story writer or a columnist for a popular newspaper.

"I graduated from university just a few short months ago, so this is my first class," Mr. Malik continued. "I will most likely mess up a lot. Example one, I've already broken about five pieces of chalk as you all know." Suddenly he turned his joking hazel eyes on me. "Well, you do not know about that because you showed up late."

"I-I had Calculus in the math wing, on the other side of the campus," I sputtered out a little stupidly. I licked my lips, taking a breath to calm myself. After all, I was just talking to a teacher, right? "All the seventh years are running around like chickens with their heads cut off so they were causing a bit of a traffic jam in the corridors."

"Well, next year that will be all of you during your first year at university. Except you will be running around like _hungover_ chickens with their heads cut off." As some of the students laughed, Mr. Malik leaned against the desk, folding his arms after pushing up his already rolled sleeves a bit. "I am allowed to make remarks about drinking, right?" We all nodded in unison, causing him to smile more. "Good, because drunk jokes make up about half of my joke repertoire." He clapped his hands suddenly. "So, this is Advanced Writing and Literary Analysis. This year we will…"

Mr. Malik continued giving a verbal syllabus about what to look forward to and what supplies to get for his class, telling us all to have everything as soon as possible because we would have homework every night starting with the next class. He claimed that he thought the only way to really stay on top of and increase one's writing ability was to write or read at least a little bit every day. I knew a few girls in the class had no idea what he was saying because they were too busy just staring at him and drooling over him, but I made sure I took very detailed notes. Despite the fact that I had a bit of a tendency to slack off in the listening department in most of my classes, I knew that whether Mr. Malik was my teacher or not, I would be all ears during this class. Calculus, however, was a completely different story seeing as I utterly abhor anything that is categorized as a math class or has to do with numbers.

"Your final for this year will be any type of writing of your choice," Mr. Malik explained when he glanced at the clock, realizing that we only had a few minutes left. "It can be a poem, a song, a short story, a novella, anything you want. It must be as perfect as you can get it, though. You have until the very last class to think about it, write it, edit it, and make it yours. It needs to be something you would pay a million dollars to read if it was not yours. You need to be utterly in love with the piece you give me, if you want to get a good grade. It needs to be authentic, beautiful, and full of your personality and writing style. I will be available for editing sessions all year and you can ask me for my opinion on things anytime you like. I have four other classes during the day, three seventh year classes and one eighth year class. You can always find me in this room because frankly, the staff break room is terrible and smells like old lady perfume."

At that, the bell rang as we all laughed a little on our way out of the room. I was just about to walk out the door when I heard Mr. Malik say, "Ms. Holmes?" I turned slowly, unsure if I had heard him correctly. He had only taken roll once, there was no way he knew everyone's names already. Mr. Malik motioned for me to walk over to his desk where he was standing.

"What class do you have next?" he asked me, leaning back against his desk.

"I have a free period," I told him. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no, I just wanted to talk to you about your marks from last year."

"My marks? I thought I did really well in Creative Writing last year."

"You did extremely well, actually. You had the top mark in English and Literature for the entire school, and you had the third highest mark in the London area."

"Then…what's the problem, Mr. Malik?"

He rolled his eyes with a small smile. "There is no problem. It is quite the opposite, really. You see, each year, all over the United Kingdom, there is a competition held for young writers in all categories of writing. The submission date is by the first of May of next year. Your teacher from last year, Mrs. O'Connell, asked me to specifically ask you to consider submitting something. It would look very good on your resume if you won an award in the competition and it gives you a chance to compete with other young writers. The age range is from sixteen to twenty-two years old. What do you think?"

"I…I'm not really sure. I mean, I'll have a lot going on with applying for university and I think I should look into it some more."

"No problem." Mr. Malik picked up a paper lying face down on the corner of his desk and handed it to me. "The website is on there, along with the amount of the awards."

"Amount?"

"You don't think they would host a big competition like that without a large sum of money granted to the top winners, do you? The award for first place is two thousand pounds."

It took all I had not to let my jaw drop a little when I heard the amount he said. "Oh, well, thank you very much. I'll consider it."

"Okay. Let me know if you're going to do it, though. I'd love to read the piece you want to submit, especially if you're half as good as Mrs. O'Connell made it sound like you were."

I let a small smile spread on my face. "Just as long as Abby gets a look at it first."

"Actually, I wanted to talk to her about the competition, too. Mrs. O'Connell said she has quite a gift for writing plays, and that is one of the categories. She ran out of here pretty fast, though, so I couldn't get a word in with her."

"I'll pass the message along that you want to talk to her."

He got off his desk, moving around to start shuffling through some pages in his briefcase. "Thank you. Have a nice day, Ms. Holmes."

"Uh, Mr. Malik?"

He stopped, looking up at me. "Yes?"

"You have a small class, and you're a young teacher, so don't call your students Mister this or Miss that. It makes all of us feel much older than we really are."

He smiled with a look of relief. "Oh, thank God, I hated the idea of having to do that. Thank you, Anastasia."

"Just Anna is fine. My whole name is a bit of a mouth full. Have a nice day, Mr. Malik."


	2. Chapter 2

"What did I ever do to you? All I did was love you, and love you, and then love you more! Was it never enough? Was it really never enough that I gave you everything? That I gave you my heart and soul and body? I would give you my mind but we both know I lost that long before I met you! You know how much I care for you, how much I love you! Please, please, darling, tell me why you would do this?"

I clapped, applauding my sister's great performance as I helped her read through the lines for a play she was in that was being put on at a local theater. It was a student-written play that had a cast primarily made up of tenth and eleventh years, but my sister (a ninth year) was a better actor than half of them and was able to get the leading female role. She was not conceited about it, like the annoying tenth year playing the leading male role.

"Is that the end of the scene?" I asked her, scanning the page quickly. "He just finished it there?"

"Yes," Amalie said, falling onto the couch next to me with a slight sigh. "So how was your first day back?"

"Good. Abby and I have a few classes together, but Bonnie and I have only one class with each other. Oh, Reggie and I have Calculus together, thank God."

"What are you going to do? Cheat off of him for every test?"

I hit my sister lightly on the shoulder. "No, that's Bonnie's job." Actually, Bonnie and Reggie had only met because she cheated off of him on half her math tests in primary school. It is a bit ironic how they are now in an on-again-off-again relationship. "How was your first day?"

"Eh, it was so-so. I'm convinced half my teachers were raised back from the dead to come and teach us. Speaking of dead teachers…is he really cute?"

I placed the script on the coffee table before turning to my sister. "Excuse me?"

"Your Advanced Writing teacher, is he really as attractive as everyone says he is?"

"No. I mean, yes, of course he is, but what does that have to do with dead teachers?"

"He only got your class because Mr. Howell, the old Advanced Writing teacher, had a heart attack and died about a month ago. You don't really think they would give such a new teacher an eleventh year class unless they absolutely had to, do you?"

"I hadn't really thought about, to be honest."

"Too busy staring at his muscles to think? I hear they are very nice."

"Amalie! He's a teacher!"

"So? Teacher's are still human." She got up from the couch, stretching. "Who knows? Maybe Mr. Howell dying was a good thing. Maybe it's fate."

"Oh, I've heard of this before. It's when actors become so involved in their roles that they confuse reality with fiction." I smirked at her meaningfully.

"Bloody hell, Anna, it's not like I was suggesting you try to seduce him or something." She tapped her chin with her finger as she looked up. "Then again, it would be pretty hot to do it on a teacher's desk."

"Go wash your mouth out with soap! You're thinking like a whore."

She raised an eyebrow mockingly. "Or am I thinking like you?"

I reached out quickly, trying to grab her, but she dashed away before I could. I began chasing after her but I was cut short at the stairs when my mother opened the door, entering the house with some groceries she had gotten. "And in your mind he probably keeps his tie on the whole time!" Amalie called down the stairs to me before skipping into her room with a smirk plastered on her pale, pixie like face that resembled my mother's. My face was slightly more heart shaped, but there were little traces of my mother's nose and cheekbones in there. If anything, I think I was even paler than my mother.

"Who keeps his tie on during what?" my mother asked in a distracted voice as she walked into the kitchen.

"Uh, the main character in the play, during his monologue scene," I quickly told her. My mother seemed satisfied with the answer, questioning no further. "I won't be home for dinner. Bonnie and I are going out for fish and chips in a little bit."

"Alright. Your father won't be home for dinner either, he has a meeting. I guess it will just be Amalie and I. Maybe she and I can go out, too. Oh! I almost forgot! The Tomlinsons are stopping by for dinner this Saturday, so don't make any early plans."

"Is Louis bringing his new girlfriend?"

"Eleanor? Yes. His mum loves her. I saw a picture of them on a ski trip together and they look adorable together."

"Don't tell Amalie. She's still got it bad for him."

My mother pointed at me with a new whisk she pulled out of the grocery bag. "You know, it always surprised me that you never liked him."

"I always thought he was gay."

My mother scrunched her nose as she laughed. "Oh, you! Don't tell Eleanor that!"

I laughed and walked out of the kitchen, heading up to my room to grab my purse before heading off to the corner where I always meet Bonnie before we go out to get fish and chips. She was late, as always, running up to me with her curly blond hair trailing behind her. She was out of breath by the time she reached me, which was no surprise since she is one of the laziest people I have ever met.

"Sorry," she panted as I waited for one of her many excuses for being late. "Liam was just being a real pain today, you know?"

"Oh, Bonnie Payne, what will I do with you?" I teased as we headed off to the small shack where we always get our fish and chips from on the first day of school every year. We decided the year before that we would continue the tradition all the way through university, and on the first day of any new job we get we would take the other out for fish and chips, no matter where we were.

As we ate we talked about our first day, the classes, our teachers, how people we had not seen all holiday looked and acted, what we were looking forward to in the classes, et cetera. Of course, when we were talking about our teachers, Bonnie had to mention Mr. Malik, and the conversation that followed was similar to the one I had had with Amalie just a mere hour before. Why was it that every single girl at St. Beatrice's was hooked on Zayn Malik?

"Liam doesn't want me to go," Bonnie said, continuing on our conversation about university. "He thinks it will mess with our 'studying' if we go to the same university."

"You'll really only be there together for a year," I pointed out, "and you'll hardly see each other. Oh, speaking of Liam, his best mate Louis and his family are stopping by for dinner on Saturday."

"Is he bringing Eleanor?"

"Yes."

Bonnie suddenly squealed. "Ah! I love her! She and Louis have stopped by our house a few times and they are _amazing_."

"Speaking of university love, how're Liam and Danielle?"

"Superb. I really wish Danielle was my sister instead of having Liam as my brother. He's just so…good. He doesn't drink, he never parties too hard, and he always thinks things through. Imagine that! Thinking something through!"

I threw my hands up in the air. "Preposterous!"

Bonnie pointed at me with one of her chips. "Exactly! Oh, I almost forgot-" Bonnie forgets a lot of things, "I promised Abby we'd get her some chips from here. You know how she loves them. Do you want to get them?"

"Sure." I stood up with my purse, heading back over to the shack that had been taken over by the newest employee, a student by the name of Harry Styles that went to the same university as Liam and Louis. I think he knew them, but I was not that sure because he was only in his second year there. "Hello, Harry, can I have some chips, please?"

I slid the exact amount across the counter as he got the little cardboard box and filled it with chips. "Here you go," he said as he handed me the chips. "Enjoy."

"Thanks. Oh, and they aren't for me. They're for Abby."

"Abby? The one with the hot mum?"

I rolled my eyes at him. "Yes, Harry, the one with the hot mum."

He slid the money back to me before he put it in the cash register, winking at me. "On the house, then."


	3. Chapter 3

"I guess Mr. Malik isn't the only new teacher," Reggie said as he came up to Bonnie and me on our way into the school, sliding his arm around Bonnie. "Mr. Harms snapped yesterday when one of his ninth years said something and he got fired immediately. Mr. Malik apparently had a friend from Ireland who was looking for a teaching job in history, and he got it. His name is Mr. Horan. Your sister might have him, Anna."

"She didn't have Mr. Harms," I said. "If Mr. Horan looks anything like Mr. Malik she'll probably try to get switched into that class, though."

"What happened to 'he's not that attractive'?" Bonnie teased, hitting my arm. I shot her a quick glare that she brushed off easily. She reached into her purse, muttering something about needing lip gloss, but froze after rummaging around in her bag for a few seconds. "Oh…what's this?"

Reggie and I exchanged wary glances before we stopped so Bonnie could show us whatever interesting thing she had found in her purse this time. Slowly she pulled out three shiny plastic cards, keeping one and passing the other two to Reggie and me. I looked down at the card that had my school picture from last year on it and said I was eighteen years old as of six months ago. I turned to Bonnie with a huge grin on my face.

"You got us the ID's?" I asked her happily, jumping up and down a bit.

"Yup," Bonnie responded with a little smirk. "So this Saturday, after your little dinner with the Tomlinsons, we are all going out to Trixie's to break in their new dance floor. I mean, we'll all be eighteen in a couple months so we look old enough to get in without even using these."

"They're really only in case the bartender is picky," Reggie said, flicking the side of the ID before slipping it into his pocket. "I'll see you guys later."

He jogged off to catch up with a group of boys ahead of us that he was friendly with. Abby joined Bonnie and I just as we were walking into the school, and Bonnie handed her the ID card she had made for her before any of the teachers saw us. I saw the hesitant look on Abby's face before she slipped it into the deepest pocket in her backpack. I knew that she would make up some excuse about how she already had plans or had a family thing that would stop her from joining us at Trixie's, just like she had done the couple times we managed to sneak in the back door last year. I think Bonnie had overestimated Abby's daringness a little bit too much by making her the fake ID, but I hoped maybe Abby did try to join us, just to be a bit of a rule-breaker for once. I mean, do not get me wrong, I follow the rules almost as much as she does, she just can be a little uptight about them.

"I'll see you in Advanced Writing," was all Abby said before rushing off down the hall, almost knocking a seventh year over on her way.

"What's up with her?" Bonnie asked me.

"You know Abby. She probably won't come on Saturday."

"Ugh, that girl needs to stop worrying that her parents will catch us. They won't! And if they do, we can just say Reggie kidnapped us and forced us to go clubbing with him."

I narrowed my eyes at Bonnie. "Way to throw him under the bus, Bonnie."

"Oh, shut up! You know I was only kidding. Besides, we won't get caught." She shrugged before walking away in the opposite direction I was going in, sending a quick wink back. "Maybe you'll even find a hot guy at the club. See you later."


	4. Chapter 4

I picked up the plate from Eleanor's place and brought it into the kitchen, placing it on the counter next to where the other dirty dishes were piled up. I was surprised to see Louis bringing in his own plate when I turned around to get the rest. He motioned for me to wait a second as he placed the plate down, turning to me with an expectant look.

"What do you think of her?" he asked eagerly. "Do you like her?"

"She's great," I told him. Honestly, Eleanor was great, especially for Louis.

"And what do your parents think?"

"I think my mom wants to adopt her. My dad…well, he's already made it clear he thinks she'll make a great extension to our already extended family."

"Do you think my parents like her?"

"I would assume they wou-…Have you introduced her to them before this?"

Louis's eyes got a little wide before he scratched the back of his head. "Uh…I want to tell you yes, but I'd be lying through me teeth." I wanted to correct his grammar, but now was not the time for me to be picky. "I mean, I've told them about her, and they always say she sounds great."

"What are you thinking? Introducing her to your parents at someone else's house? You know your mum, she'll think it was Eleanor's idea not to meet them directly and she'll hate her forever. You better go save your girlfriend's arse before I kick yours."

Louis nodded curtly before heading back out to the dining room. A few seconds later he came back with the rest of the plates, giving me a look that puppies usually give their owners after they eat their owner's shoes. I shook my head a little before directing my eyes toward the door to the dining room. He hung his head before shuffling back out as I started washing the dishes. Amalie was sent in to help me while everyone else talked over coffee and dessert. As much as I wanted to eat a big slice of the cake my mum had made, I also did not want to be too full and bloated before I went out to Trixie's. Amalie, who knew I was going, was going to cover for me if I came back after my curfew, which was twelve-thirty on weekends. I gave her a little "here we go" look before I headed upstairs to throw on a sweatshirt over my blouse and jeans.

"Bye Mum, bye Dad," I said, sticking my head into the dining room after I grabbed my purse off the kitchen counter. "It was nice seeing you again, Mr. and Mrs. Tomlinson. Nice to meet you, too, Eleanor. Keep an eye on Louis for us."

I rushed out the door before my mum could question me any further about where I was going that night, even though I had already told her twice that I was just walking around downtown with Bonnie and Reggie. It was true, in a way, seeing as that was the general area of where Trixie's was. I walked to the music store Bonnie's parents owned as quickly as possible, seeing as I was already five minutes behind the schedule we had made, which was cutting into my time to get ready.

I had just stepped into the unlocked music store when Bonnie grabbed my arm, dragging me along behind her to the back of the store where the bathroom was. Hanging on the door was the purple sleeveless dress with the thick strand of sparkling black lace wrapped in a spiral around the entire thing. I changed into it as fast as I could, needing Bonnie's help to zipper the back of it before stepping into the four inch velvet black pumps I had kept at Bonnie's along with the dress. Bonnie, whose makeup was already done and probably had been for almost an hour, practically pushed me into the mirror in the bathroom as she demanded I do my makeup. My hair was already done since I had straightened out my wavy locks earlier. I leaned closer to the mirror as I put on my purple eyeliner and black mascara. I hardly ever wore eyeshadow because of how easily it smudged, especially when I sweat. I dabbed some cover up over a spot left over on my chin from a few breakouts I had had a week earlier and quickly put on the powder foundation Bonnie shoved in my face but not too much, seeing as powder foundation was even worse than eyeshadow. I was just turning to get the lipstick out of the little makeup box on the ground behind me when Bonnie grabbed my chin, putting it on for me before I could protest.

"Well, you look nice," I said after she was done and was now shoving me toward the door. "And you probably didn't even have someone rushing you as if you were late to your own funeral."

"Shut up and walk," Bonnie snapped when we were standing on the sidewalk. She locked the door behind her before slipping the key into her small purse, which also contained our ID's, cell phones, and some money. Knowing Bonnie, she had most likely stuffed in a tube of lip gloss, too. "If Abby was coming she wouldn't have showed up late."

"Oh, be quiet. I had dinner guests."

"Meh, meh, meh. I don't care."

I rolled my eyes at her but said no more on the subject because Reggie was just walking around the corner to meet us. Considering the mad rush I had just been through, we were not late for meeting Reggie at all, even though Bonnie made it seem like we were. I ignored the couple comments she made about our lateness while we strolled the few blocks from the music store to Trixie's. Even though it was only nine-thirty when we got there, there was already a line of almost fifty people standing outside, waiting to get in. Bonnie handed me the thirty pounds I had asked her to hold for me.

"It's not as expensive as some clubs," Reggie said, "but they must make a killing here. I heard at least four hundred fifty people come in and out of here in one night."

"Maybe night clubs are the business to get into," Bonnie pondered, tapping her foot on the ground while sending death glares up the line of people in front of us.

We must have stood out there for another half-hour before we managed to get to the door. As I was handing the bouncer my ID so he could check it out, I saw a boy with bleach blond hair and pale skin walk by the door, laughing. The bouncer handed me back my ID after I paid and I stepped to the side, next to Bonnie, who had been cleared and paid also.

"Does that kid go to our school?" I whispered, quietly enough for the bouncer not to hear. I pointed through the door at the blond boy who was almost out of view by now.

"He does look familiar, but I'm not really sure," Bonnie responded honestly with a teeny impatient sigh in the bouncer's direction. I gave him an apologetic look on her part when Bonnie was not paying attention anymore.

Once Reggie had paid, we walked right into the club like we had done it a million times, even though we had only done it illegally about three times. Reggie headed straight to the bar, bringing Bonnie with him. At the last second Bonnie reached out to take hold of my hand, pulling me along with them. Really, the last thing I wanted to do that night was watch Bonnie and Reggie get drunk and run the bases at the speed of light. Thankfully, Reggie said he was going to take it slow that night, and started off with just one shot while Bonnie ordered a 16 oz. beer that had a name I had never heard before. I think the bartender said it was a new brand when Bonnie ordered it.

"You want to try it?" Bonnie asked, pushing the glass across the counter toward me with a raised eyebrow.

"Nah," I responded, folding my arms on the cool glass counter. "I didn't plan on drinking tonight." Besides, last time I drank at Trixie's I had almost blacked out and had to stay at Bonnie's until the hungover wore off enough for me to go home without my parents getting suspicious. "After you're done with that, do you want to go dance?"

"Obviously, yes!"

I laughed to myself a little. Bonnie took her time finishing the beer, chatting up both Reggie and I as she did so. It seemed like ages before she suddenly grabbed our hands, doing an attempt at the moonwalk as she started to pull us onto the dance floor. She started dancing with Reggie the second they each had both feet on the dance floor. I stood off to the side a little awkwardly, dancing with small movements. A group of people suddenly decided to leave, pushing past us quite violently. I was shoved backward, my back hitting a stranger's solid chest. I spun around instantly once I had gained my footing back.

"I'm so sorry," I said, tripping on my words a little at the end when I realized it was the blond I had seen walking by the door earlier. He had really blue eyes and he was wearing a huge smile despite the fact that I think I had just poked a hole in his shoes with my heel. "I just got pushed-"

"Don't worry about it," he said, holding his hands up with a shrug. "I'm not."

I looked over the fishermen's knit jumper he was wearing. "Nice jumper."

His smile somehow became even bigger. "Thanks. My mum got it for me when I got my new job."

"You're from Ireland?"

"Yeah, I'm from Mullingar."

I made a small sweeping gesture with my arms. "And now you're in the big, grand city of London. What brings you do this lovely place?" Hey, I would probably never see this guy again, so why not ask him a few questions?

"Planes, usually."

I laughed. "Where do you work?"

"St. Beatrice's, I'm the new history teacher there."

Just like that the smile on my face fell off, shattering as it hit the ground. "Oh…"

"Yeah, it's not that interesting." His tone had become less chipper when he saw how my expression had changed. "But hey, I love it, that's what matters."

"I'm sorry, that look wasn't intended for you. I just thought I saw someone behind you that I haven't seen in a while, but it wasn't them."

"Understandable."

I looked back at the spot where Reggie and Bonnie were still dancing. "I should probably go back with my friends."

He held up his hand quickly. "Wait, I have a friend with me that I think you might like meeting."

"I really don't think-"

"At least dance with him once? He's a great guy, every girl who meets him thinks he's really fit." He raised his eyebrows hopefully, leaning forward a little with anticipation. "Please?"

I wanted to say no to him, but he was just reminding me of a giant teddy bear, and I have a real soft spot for stuffed animals. "We'll see. Where is he?"

"I believe he just went to the bar to get a drink, but when he gets back I'll introduce you two. Now go, run along, dance with your friends." He wiggled his finger toward Reggie and Bonnie.

I walked back over to Bonnie and Reggie, who both gave me questioning looks, followed by skeptic glances toward the man I had just talked to. I almost went to tell them his name, but then I realized I had never actually gotten it. Oh, wait, I already knew his name, because he was the history teacher at my school. Niall Horan. All the ninth year girls, including Amalie, had been drooling over him all week, whether they had him as a teacher or not. I hoped I never crossed paths with him in the corridors at school. On the other hand, if I did, it would hopefully be in the far future when he would not even remember who I was. However, if I still agreed to dance with this "fit friend" of his after I was introduced to him, Niall would definitely recognize me.

"This was a mistake," I said hastily, starting to back up a little bit.

"What do you mean?" Bonnie asked, completely bewildered. "We're having a great time, and we haven't even been here that long. Give it some time."

"We shouldn't have come. I should have just stayed at ho-"

Yet again, I backed up into a solid chest. I tried to convince myself it was not Niall, but I could feet the wool of the jumper on my skin. I turned slowly, looking up at Niall with some regret. He still had a huge grin spread across his face as he dramatically stepped aside to reveal his "fit friend", his smile doing that impossible thing again where it widens.

"Oh my God."

The two of us, both Niall's "fit friend" and me, spoke the words. No, it was not some dramatic, love at first sight thing where we both basked in each other's beauty and love. No, no, that would have been too easy. Instead, this "fit friend" of Niall's was no other than Zayn Malik, better known to me, his _student_, as Mr. Malik. I heard Bonnie give a little whistle behind me, but that was only because she had no idea who Mr. Malik really was. Mr. Malik just stared at me in shock as I stared at him with an equal amount of the same emotion.

"Lovely, you're already both smitten by each other," Niall said giddily, even clapping his hands together quietly. "Go dance!"

Niall placed his hand firmly on Mr. Malik's shoulder before shoving him toward me with more strength than I was expecting out of the little guy, despite the fact that he was taller than I was. I put my hands up instinctively to stop Mr. Malik before he crashed into me, just as he did. The second his hands landed on my shoulders he pulled them back with an extremely apologetic look on his face.

"Aw, don't be shy," Niall said, slapping Mr. Malik on the shoulder good-naturedly.

"Niall, I can't-" Mr. Malik began to say, but I cut him off.

"He's not my type," I blurted almost too loudly.

"Yes, I'm not her-" Mr. Malik stopped, turning to me with his hands in his jean pockets. "Not your type?"

"I don't like guys who wear…" I looked at the color of the V-neck Mr. Malik was wearing. Of course it had to be a tight V-neck that only showed off every single muscle he had. "Black."

"That's the best you could do?" Mr. Malik muttered to me before Niall could catch it.

"Well, I'm not leavin' this spot until you two dance," Niall said resolutely, stamping his foot down just for emphasis. Mr. Malik and I exchanged a look, shrugged, and started to walk away. Niall reached out in a flash, pulling us back to where we were before. "And neither are you two."

I looked at Mr. Malik, who seemed to be trying to look anywhere but at me. After a while he had no choice but to look at me. I almost wanted to ask him if we could just strangle Niall, something I am sure had already crossed his mind, but it was out of the question. I looked at Mr. Malik for some help, hoping he had a way to get us out of this or could talk Niall into letting us go. I saw his eyes flashing as he tried to think of something, anything, but after about a minute he gave me a blank look. I considered trying to come up with an argument in my mind against Niall, but my experiences when it came to arguing with Irishmen were not the best.

"If you don't dance already I'm going to throw you two in a closet together," Niall randomly stated in a tone of voice that was far too sure.

Mr. Malik's hand shot out and grabbed mine, twirling me around so that I was pressed against him. His other hand slid onto my hip and he pushed me forward a little so we moved farther onto the floor, away from Niall. I heard Niall make a noise that sounded a lot like a war cry even though he did not leave the floor, deciding to stay and watch Mr. Malik and I instead. Mr. Malik spun me back around to face him, placing my hand on his shoulder as he put his own on my other hip. It took me a few seconds to register that I should put my free hand on his other shoulder instead of letting it dangly idly by my side.

"The next song is a special request from a birthday girl here tonight," the DJ announced as the next song began to play. "'Let's Get Ugly' by the Wanted."

Crap, I loved this song, but now it was going to be ruined by this horrible experience that I was going through. I felt a knot form in my stomach when I saw Niall walk closer to Mr. Malik and me. He gave Mr. Malik, who had been standing as far back as possible, a little nudge that pushed him so close to me the tips of our noses brushed against each other briefly. I started to back up again but Mr. Malik stopped me, looking right into my eyes. I could not believe it. He actually looked amused.

"Do you think this is funny?" I snapped at him under my breath.

"A little," he replied. "After this song, Niall will stop being a pain in the arse and we can stop. We'll just pretend like this never happened."

"Fine, old man."

"Old man? I'm only four years older than you, according to your ID. According to reality, I'm hardly even five years older than you."

I was a little surprised by what he had said. "Based on what you've said so far, I get the assumption that you want to dance with me."

His eyes seemed to bore into mine. "I never said I didn't want to, did I?"

I smiled at him, letting the reasonable part of my brain take a break for a while. "I'll try not to show you up too much."

I let my hands slide off his shoulders as I started to dance with him. He clearly had some practice with this. I made sure not to look at Bonnie and Reggie when I was dancing with him because I knew the looks they would give me; especially considering neither of them knew whom he was. As the end of the song faded and the intro to the next song start, we stopped dancing and looked at each other. I noticed that Niall was nowhere in sight now.

"Well, that was…" he began to say, trailing off before he finished the sentence.

"Interesting," I concluded. "You're not half bad."

"Neither are you."

I let the words sink in before I continued on cautiously. "We aren't talking about our dancing, are we?"

He went to say something, thought better of it, and said, "Of course we are. What else would we be talking about?"

He finally took his hands off my hips, walking away without an answer and without looking back once he had turned. Bonnie came up next to me, hooking her arm around mine so she could bring me over to the bar where Reggie was taking his second shot of the night.

"He was _really_ fit," Bonnie commented, looking back to try to catch another glimpse of Mr. Malik. "Did he tell you his name?"

On the first day of school? Why, yes, Bonnie, yes he did, and he even wrote it on the chalkboard. "No," I muttered while avoiding eye contact with her. I can lie easily sometimes, but Bonnie was one of the few people who could tell I was lying with one look in my eyes. "He didn't."

"Aw, such a shame. You two looked good together."


	5. Chapter 5

"Here you go, beautiful," Harry said, handing me the bottle of water I had ordered from the shack on my way to the school.

"No classes this morning?" I asked him.

"No, just two this afternoon. Hey, your mate Bonnie is Liam Payne's little sister, right?"

"Yeah, do you know him?"

"We play football together at Brunel. His mate Louis just transferred there this year from University of County Cork. Oh, you go to St. Beatrice's, right?"

Mr. Malik had told us on the second day of classes that he had attended the University of County Cork and had played football there. "Yes, and I'm going to be late if I don't leave now."

"Louis played with two of teachers there!"

I tossed back a half-hearted grin and a nod before rushing off so I would not miss first bell. I knew the other teacher was Mr. Horan because Mr. Malik had mentioned something just a few classes ago about playing football with him. I was glad that I had not had an encounter with Mr. Horan in the past three and a half weeks since I had gone to Trixie's. The awkwardness between Mr. Malik and me was just starting to wear off, but I assumed it would remain there for the rest of the year. We had both gone to extremes to try to remain as far away from each other as possible, not even making any kind of direct comment toward each other or eye contact for the first entire week after.

"Anna! Anna!" I heard my sister's voice calling a little too dramatically as she ran down the stairs I was passing to catch up with me on my way to Advanced Writing and Literary Analysis.

"Yes, Amalie?" I asked her with a small sigh, since I already knew that this was about what I was planning on wearing to her opening night performance.

"Did you hear the rumor that Mr. Malik might be leaving already?"

I wanted to freeze right there, act like my feet were cemented to the ground, and scream at the top of my lungs. "Why?" I asked her as calmly as possible.

"He wants to get his doctorate in English. I think maybe he's starting to fall for one of his students." She winked at me with a smirk.

"Don't joke like that."

Amalie stopped, pulling me back by the arm to face her. "Are you okay? You've been really weird lately, not your usual self. I mean, when you skip over a chance to add something sarcastic to a conversation, I know you must not be feeling well."

Well, Amalie, if you really must know, I have developed a huge crush on my English teacher after dancing very suggestively with him, something he probably wishes to forget. I also cannot seem to get rid of this infatuation, which he clearly does not return in any way at all.

"I'm just tired," I responded. "I have to get to class. Thanks for asking, though."

My sister nodded uncertainly before turning and walking down the corridor to her next class. I ran to get to Advanced Writing, even though Mr. Malik was really mellow about being a few minutes late to class and everyone took advantage of it. I saw Abby turning into the bathroom near his room as I rounded the corner. I slowed down so I could catch my breath before walking into the classroom, just so Mr. Malik would not think I was weird or obsessed with getting to his class or something insane like that. The less I made it appear I had grown to like him, the easier it would be for me to stop liking him.

It really did not help that I ended up being the first one to get to class that day. Mr. Malik looked up briefly from the magazine he was reading, saw who I was, and looked back down at the article quickly. I thought I saw his cheeks get a little pinker, but it had to have been the lighting. I mean, the sun was shining in through the windows so that the rays of light hit his face perfe-…God, I need to get over him. I threw my book bag on the floor with a little too much force to get my frustration out, causing Mr. Malik to glance up at me.

"Someone's not in a good mood," he commented. I just scoffed at him, not sure what to say in this situation. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just remembered a homework assignment I forgot to do," I fibbed, moving my bag gently with my toe so it was closer to my desk.

He closed his magazine, shoving it to the corner of his desk. "If you're going to lie, do a better job than that."

"How did you know I was-"

"Do you really need to ask?"

For the first time in three and half weeks, his eyes looked into mine as if he could see right into them. Or better yet, as if he was actually _trying_ to see into them. I wanted to look away, say something funny or just random, but I could not break the gaze with him. If you want the truth, I was not actually trying that hard to look away, but he was not either.

A boy named Arnold, who was always tripping, stumbled into class with torn pages hanging out of about ten notebooks he was holding in his arms. It took Mr. Malik a few seconds to register Arnold was even in the room before he rushed out of his seat to help him with some of the notebooks. I fell into my seat, feeling my cheeks start to burn as I realized what had just happened. Had Mr. Malik thought of that little encounter in the same way I had, or was that all just something in my mind?

I tried my best to put it out of my mind for the rest of class, but every thought I had revolved solely around those few seconds. Thankfully we had a writing assignment during class so I did not have to look at Mr. Malik at all during class, except for at the end when we all went up to pass our papers in. I tried to rush but Abby intercepted me on my way to the desk, asking me to read the first sentence of her paper just to make sure it sounded alright. I scanned it as quickly as possible, saying it sounded fine (which really, it did), and tried to rush to the desk so I would not be the last one out of the room, but Abby pulled me back again.

"Do you want to go up the road to Pemberley's to get some crisps during our free?" she asked me as the last person besides the two of us walked out of the room.

"Yeah, sure," I replied absently as I trailed behind her, right on her heels, up to the desk.

Abby started to stroll out of the classroom as I went to place my paper on the desk, not even daring to look at Mr. Malik. Unlike with everyone else, who had just put their paper in a pile, Mr. Malik reached up to take my paper from me, his hand purposefully covering mine as he slipped the paper from my fingers. I got goose-bumps all over my arm as it fell back to my side, despite the fact that his hand was warm.

"Are you really going to get your doctorate?" I asked him before I could stop myself, looking up at his face.

"No," he said after a few seconds of contemplation. "Why?"

I smirked boldly. "Do you really need to ask?"

"Anna!" Abby exclaimed, poking her head back inside the doorway. "Let's go! Our free will be over by the time we get to Pemberley's!"


	6. Chapter 6

"_Oh, let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the South of France_," I sang as I vacuumed the kitchen floor after my sister's latest attempt at baking. "_Let's get rich and buy everyone nice sweaters and we'll teach them how to dance_."

"_Let's get rich and build our house on a mountain so everyone will look like ants_," Amalie continued in her clear, beautiful voice as I turned the vacuum off. She draped an arm around my shoulders, dirty paper towels still in her hand.

"_From way up there_," we sang in unison, "_You and I, you and I_."

The doorbell rang, cutting us off before we could go into the second verse of the song. My sister threw the dirty paper towels into the rubbish bin with some disgruntlement at our interruption before going out onto the back patio's swing where a thin blanket and her script were waiting for her. I was just closing the door to the narrow closet where we kept the vacuum when my mum walked into the kitchen with a boy I had never seen before trailing behind her, holding a toolbox at his side. He was probably six feet tall, with pale skin and curly, dirty blond hair that hung to just above his eyebrows. When he smiled at me, I suddenly became very aware of how I looked: baggy sweatpants, dry-fit t-shirt I usually wore to run, and my hair in the very definition of a messy bun.

"Anna, this is William Hanks," my mum introduced. "Your father hired him to fix the dishwasher, since he proved to us that he clearly cannot do it himself."

"H-hi," I stammered after a moment of hesitation, my words getting caught in my throat. "I'm Anna."

"Your mum just said that," William remarked with a small smirk, his eyes lit up with the joke. I like a man with a good sense of humor. Wait…_what_?

"The dishwasher's right there," my mum pointed out as she motioned toward it, totally oblivious to my complete incompetence when it came to talking to his boy. "Will you be staying for dinner?"

"Most likely not," William responded politely. "It shouldn't take too long."

"You don't want to rush," Amalie commented when she walked in, tossing her loose light red curls (she got her hair from our grandmother) over her shoulder when my mother gave her a disapproving look for eavesdropping again. "Anna's cooking tonight. I'm sure she wouldn't mind making a little something extra for you."

My mother gave Amalie a curious look before telling William that we would see how things went. I followed my sister into the hall until we were out of earshot of William and our mum, which was when I twisted her arm behind her to drag her upstairs, throwing her onto my bed in my room. She sat up, smoothing her hair, an innocent look plastered on her face, her green eyes that were almost the same as mine looking like a lost puppy's.

"What the hell was that?" I snapped at her under my breath, just in case William had supersonic hearing. I would not put anything past a looker like that. Ugh! What was I doing, thinking things like that?

Amalie shrugged, tracing an invisible heart pattern on my comforter as she refused to meet my eyes. "You like him," she muttered. "And he clearly likes you if he was still smiling at you the way he was when you look like…" She did not finish the sentence but just gave me a slightly disgusted once over.

"He smiled at me, it's the nice thing to do."

"He was undressing you with his eyes. And good thing I stepped in or things were about to get really steamy in his mind."

"You have the most perverted mind!"

She shrugged again, clearly unfazed. "I make life interesting, deal with it."

"No, I'm done dealing with you and your little shenanigans. Yes, I did just say shenanigans, but it was necessary. You need to grow-up, and stop meddling in other people's lives. It's what lost me Richard last year."

"You never even liked him."

"Because I hardly got the time to know him before you started getting in my business."

She jumped up from the bed, folding her arms as she leaned forward with a slightly raised eyebrow. "Maybe I'm just fulfilling fate, did you ever think of that?"

"Damn it, Amalie, this isn't one of your little plays! This is life. You can't just say something dramatic and think it will get you out of every sticky situation. You need to learn to start separating reality from fiction."

"I was. Maybe I was meant to stick my nose in your business with Richard so you could meet someone else, someone you could really fall in love with."

"Like who? William? I've known him for about two seconds and you've already ruined everything with your little comment back there."

Her jaw tightened as her arms dropped to her side. "I wasn't talking about William."

I tensed, going to speak, but she walked out of the room briskly without even so much as half of a glance back at me. I started to follow after her but found myself closing the door to my room instead, deciding she could not have meant what I thought she did. There was no way she could have meant that.

I changed out of my cleaning clothes, putting on a pair of skinny jeans and a light blue deep v-neck top over a white tank top. I brushed my hair, watching it frizz up in my mirror as a subtle look of horror spread across my face. I looked at my door before turning back to my mirror, making ogre faces as I lifted my hair up in all different weird, creative ways to make myself look weird. I jumped when my mom knocked on the door, throwing my hair back in a ponytail on my way to the door as my heart started to regain its normal beating pattern.

"William's gone," my mom said, poking her head into my room to inspect it, making sure it was up to her standards of tidiness. "You should start making dinner now."

"That didn't take him too long," I said, following my mom down the hall and the staircase.

"He said it wouldn't. He's coming back next weekend to help your dad fix the gutters."

"What college does he go to?"

"Brunel. Harry recommended him to me last time I went to get something on my way back from the produce shop."

"You talk to Harry Styles at the fish and chips shack? I mean, he actually reaches out to make conversation with you?"

"Yes, why is that so shocking?"

"He just usually only has conversations with people his age or younger or-" I remembered my mum's bra size was a D. "Never mind."

The doorbell rang, sounding all throughout the house. My mum asked me to get it while she got out the pots and pans we would need to make the lasagna. I did not know who I was expecting to be at the door, but the last person I was expecting to be there was William. Just as I was going to welcome him in, my mother walked back out with a hammer in her hands.

"You forgot this," she said, handing it to him so he could put it in his toolbox. After she handed it to him, she stayed there, waiting for him to leave. He did not budge at all. "Did you forget something else?"

"Kind of," he responded, looking at me briefly before turning back to my mum. "I wanted to ask Anna if she wanted to go get something to eat."

My mum seemed a little stunned at first but a look of realization slowly spread across her face. "Anna would love to, wouldn't she?" She started to nudge me repeatedly with her elbow.

"I thought you wanted my help with the lasagna," I said, trying my best to shake my head without William picking up on it. After my conversation with Amalie, the last thing I wanted to do was go out someplace with William.

"Amalie can help."

"You know she's terrible in the kitchen."

"She'll make do." By that point, my mum was pushing me practically into William's arms. "You two run along and have fun. I'll let your dad know where you are when he comes home. Don't rush home."

"Mum-"

"Enjoy yourselves!"

My mum slammed the door in my face so there was no way of getting back in without extreme struggle, which probably would look extremely impolite at that moment. I turned to face William, who was smiling like he had not even noticed that I was in no mood to go out. Girls probably were always in the mood to go out with him, something you could tell he took advantage of very often.

"Do you want to go get something to eat?" he asked, almost trying to force the awkward tone into his voice to try to sound cuter.

"Sure."

"Great. My friend works along the way to this amazing restaurant I know so I can drop my toolbox off there."

"Fine by me."

"Are you sure?"

Not in the least bit. "Of course."


	7. Chapter 7

"Who was he?" my dad asked, looking out the door as William walked away and I crept by him, trying to contain my laughter at the last thing William had said. "Was that Will? I didn't hire him to date my daughter."

"Calm down, Dad," I choked out through the laughter. "We just went out for a small dinner. It was fun."

He looked at me skeptically before adding, "Your mother said you didn't seem too thrilled to go out with him."

I shrugged off his comment without an answer before skipping off the staircase, on a weird emotional high after my dinner with William. At first I had just tried to ignore all the charm, humor, and sweetness that practically oozed out of every pore of his extremely toned body. Thinking back on the thoughts I had had about him before I went out to eat with him, I did not feel ashamed at all. The whole fawning over him thing was not pointless since he clearly liked me back, so there was no reason I should be embarrassed by any slightly risqué thoughts I might have about him. Who knew where this could go? I was holding out for a happy ending.

"Mr. Malik called," my sister mumbled as she walked by my bedroom door.

"What?" I practically screamed at her as I jumped right out of my desk chair.

She backtracked, peering in at me with a weird look. "I said Uncle Mac called."

"Oh…why?"

"He wanted to know what you would like as a present from Cork."

My heart practically beat right out of my chest. "Where?"

"New York. He's coming back in a week, remember? Are your ears okay?"

"Yes." It was just my mind that had all the problems at the moment.

"How was your date with William?" She fluttered her eyelashes a little, her voice getting a couple octaves higher when she said William's name.

"Surprisingly enjoyable."

She was clearly taken aback by my response. "Oh, good. Are you two going out again? Soon?"

"He took my number and said he would call me when he got the chance. I won't get my hopes up too much, he might just want to hang out a little."

Amalie rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "We'll see about that."

"Amalie…" I gave her a warning look.

She held her hands up in surrender. "Fine, I won't get involved with you and Will."

"Thank you very much." I turned to my desk to finish the last two problems on my Calculus homework that I had been putting off all weekend, expecting Amalie to leave. She did not.

"In case you were wondering, I said exactly what you thought I did."

I refused to turn and face her as my cheeks grew increasingly redder. "What do you mean?"

There was no response so I knew she was gone. I forced myself to focus entirely on Calculus until I finished my homework. Neither Amalie nor I came out of our rooms for the rest of the night. My mother commented on it the next morning, but we both shrugged it off easily with lame excuses. Amalie and I did not even leave for school at the same time because I purposely made sure I left twenty minutes earlier than usual.

Fewer people than I was expecting were scattered all across the grounds in front of the school, most of them eating breakfast bars or fruit as they walked into the large building. I was almost to one of the already open doors when an all too familiar bleach blond head of hair appeared in front of me. I ducked to the side but Mr. Horan had moved to avoid me by going moving in the same direction. We moved back and forth three more times before I froze where I was, Mr. Horan stepping around me with a laugh.

"Sorry about that," he said cheerfully.

"No, it's fine," I mumbled, glancing up at him just barely.

Mr. Horan's smile started to fade as recognition filled his face. We both went to say something when someone jumped up out of nowhere, putting Mr. Horan in a headlock and spinning him around so he could not look at me. Mr. Malik nodded back to me over his shoulder as a signal for me to leave.

"Good morning, Niall," Mr. Malik said to his friend with a largely forced tone of humor. As I started to back into the school, Mr. Malik loosened up on the headlock so Mr. Horan could stand up straight. "Harassing my students, are you?"

"No," Mr. Horan responded as his voice faded behind my back. "I just thought I recognized her. 'Guess I was wrong."

If only you were, Mr. Horan, if only you were.


	8. Chapter 8

"Write it on Wiiiilllll," Amalie sang, kicking her feet up on my lap after falling violently onto the swing next to me. "Talk about the joy you felt when you two made it 'official'."

"Not happening," I said, pulling my notebook and pen closer to my chest. "First of all, I've only been on three real dates with him and we are far from 'official'. Second of all, this isn't some little essay I can just pound out about the trials of petty teenage love. It needs to be serious and thought-provoking."

"Write about something you love. Like food! Or running! Or Will!"

"If you can't be serious-"

"I'm trying! You asked me to help you in the first place."

"Yes, I asked you to help me, not goof off. I need a good topic."

"What's something you enjoy doing?"

"Writing and reading."

"Why?"

I squirmed in my seat, not wanting to give my sister the insanely personal response that came to mind. "I don't really know."

She rolled her eyes but pressed no further. "What do you love in your life?"

"My friends. My family."

"Write about that. Write about how it makes you feel to know you have family members and friends always there to support and love you."

I smiled, tapping her lightly on the shoulder with my pen. "Look at you, being all smart and serious and stuff."

She narrowed her eyes at me. "I better get a cut of your winnings."

"I probably won't even win."

"Then why did you go through all this to pick out a topic?"

"Just because the piece won't win doesn't mean it shouldn't be the best I can make it. People are still going to read it."

"People like who? Mr. Malik?"

My eyes widened slightly at the sound of his name. My sister had not mentioned it since almost two weeks ago, when we had our little chat about my Uncle Mac and Will. "And other people."

My sister looked back through the kitchen window to see if anyone was there. For once, I wished my parents were home so we would not have to have whatever conversation she was about to start up. However, Amalie just turned back around, going back to the textbook opened on her lap. I turned my eyes to focus on an empty flowerpot on the corner of the patio so I could try to think up a good opening statement for my essay.

I started to think about the question Amalie had asked me earlier, about what I enjoy doing. I mean, I liked to run, but I certainly could not write even a halfway decent essay on that without putting anyone who read it to sleep. I liked to listen to music and sing along, but who didn't? I absolutely loved to read and write. I slowly forgot about writing an essay for the contest and thought about what it would be like to write an essay _about_ writing. Granted, it had probably been done millions of times by other people, so it was not a very novel idea, but it was be the only essay ever that explained how I specifically felt when I wrote. No one else could explain that except for me.

I brought my pen and notebook up to my room, opening to a clean page as I sat back against my headboard of my bed. I began to write the essay, going slowly at first, but eventually picking up the pace so that by the time my mum called me down for dinner, I only had to finish the very last sentence. I tore the pages out of my notebook, folded them, and placed them in the very back of the notebook so they could not easily be seen by someone just flipping through my notebook. I decided by the second sentence that this essay was in no way being submitted to the contest or getting into anyone else's hands.

At dinner, my mum repeatedly asked me questions about the competition and school and all sorts of fun stuff like that. She started pelting me with questions about what I was going to write my essay on and how I was going to write it. I wanted to strangle her on about ten different occasions throughout the entire meal, which was usually how my sister described her feelings toward our mother at dinnertime.

"By the way, that new history teacher at your school, Mr. Horan, is coming by for dinner this Sunday," my mother decided to announce after a couple minutes of silence.

I started choking so much on my chicken that my sister had to hit me in the back in order for it to dislodge from my throat so I could breathe. My father laughed a little at my small choking fit but my mother was just staring at me as if I had kicked a puppy.

"Do you not like Mr. Horan?" my mum asked.

"I don't really know," I responded, taking a sip of my drink to soothe the little bit of soreness in my throat.

"I've just told her some of the things my friends say about him," Amalie quickly put in without one second of hesitation, "and she's been saying she thinks I have a crush on him. Which I _don't_." The look she gave me after that made the entire scene perfect.

"Well, we'll certainly make sure to steer clear of conversation like that while he's here," my mum said dryly.

"I don't think I'll be able to go," I lied, already coming up with a plan in my head. "Will and I are going out that night."

"Oh." My mother was more into Will than I was which was a bit weird. "I wouldn't want to ruin your date, so you won't have to come. He's just new around town so I thought it would be nice for him to meet a nice family."

"And when were you planning on finding this nice family for him to meet?" my sister asked, raising an eyebrow at my mother.

My mum ignored Amalie's comment. "I've talked to him a few times at the produce shop and he seems like a very nice young lad. He might even bring his friend Zayn Malik along, too, just so they'll both be able to have a nice home-cooked meal. Isn't Zayn your teacher, Anna?"

"Gracie, she doesn't call him Zayn, she calls him Mr. Malik," my dad told her without even looking up from his plate.

"Yes, he's my teacher," I finally responded to my mother after nearly having a heart attack. "You know, the restaurant Will and I are going to on Sunday supposedly has pretty slow service, so we'll probably be out for a few hours, especially if we decide to take a walk or something after."

"Aw, such a shame, you won't be able to talk to either of the boys," my mum said with a small pout.

"Yeah, it really is a shame."

I shot Amalie a look before she could say anything. My mother harassed my father about work for the rest of dinner so I did not have any more near death experiences caused by atomic bombs flying out of her mouth. After I had washed all the dishes in the sink, I went outside on the patio to call Will while my parents were watching television in the living room.

"You're taking me out to eat on Sunday night," I told him once I was sure he had picked up, not even letting him say anything.

"Hello to you too, Anna, so nice to hear from you," Will said sarcastically on the other end. "Your day was good? That's good. Mine was good, too, thanks for asking."

"I don't need your smartass comments right now. We need to go out on Sunday, preferably to a place with slow service and that's not within a twenty minutes walk of my house."

"You just can't wait to spend hours on end with me, can you?"

"Don't flatter yourself too much." I added the little "too much" because admittedly, I was kind of glad I had a reason to spend a long period of time with him, even if it was under these circumstances. "My mum invited two teachers from my school to dinner at our house on Sunday night, one of which is my Advanced Writing teacher."

"I thought you loved Advanced Writing."

Aw, how sweet, he actually listened when I babbled pointlessly about my love for writing. "I do, it's just if I have dinner with my teacher things would get really awkward."

"How so? Is he a creeper or something?"

"No, not at all. I mean, would you want your teacher, even if you really liked them," as in _really_ liked them, "to have dinner at your house? In your home? With your family?"

"I see your point. I'll tell you what: I will find a restaurant with the slowest service in town that is at least a _thirty_ minute walk from your house, and you can just tell me what time to come get you."

"That sounds great. I owe you for this."

"I'm spending time with you, you don't owe me anything." Excuse me; I just need to mop up the place on the ground where my heart just melted.

"Thank you so much."

"Anything for you, Anna, love."


	9. Chapter 9

I slid into the booth seat across from Will in the large but only slightly crowded restaurant that we had just walked to. Unfortunately, it was only fifteen minutes from my house, but supposedly the service was horrible. The only reason people came was because the pretzel appetizer you could get was to die for and the prices were really low. No sooner had we sat down than a very nasally voice came from behind our booth, the tall man that the voice belonged to strolling over next to our table and hitting Will on the shoulder.

"Is this your latest bird?" the skinny boy asked, giving me a once over. I did not like the way he asked the question.

"Get away, Gerard," Will responded in annoyance, giving the guy a half-hearted glare. "I'm on a date with Anna."

"Anna? I thought the girl you went to town yesterday was named Penelope."

Will coughed, avoiding eye contact, as I felt a little pang in my stomach. "We aren't exclusive," I told this Gerard fellow despite the fact that I now had a very bad taste in my mouth and I had lost my appetite.

"Oh." From Gerard's face it was easy to tell that he had no idea what he had just done by mentioning this Penelope girl. "Well, I'll see you around, Will, mate."

Gerard walked away with a giant grin on his face. Will started to explain that Gerard was a big-mouth friend of his that he had known since he was in primary school, but I was only half-listening. After our pretzel appetizer came, he started to talk about rugby and then he went on to ask me a bunch of questions about school, life, my friends, my family, et cetera. I gave short, impersonal answers to every question. We did not stay for dessert, and the walk back to my house was filled with a suffocating silence.

It was not until I stepped into the entry hall that I remembered why I had even wanted to go out that night with Will in the first place. Through the open door to the living room that was right off of the entry hall, I could see Mr. Malik sitting on an ottoman with a glass of wine in his hand, Mr. Horan sitting on the chair behind him. Mr. Malik looked up right as Will was walking into the house.

"Oh, is that Anna?" my mum asked in a loud voice from the living room. "Would you like to come in Anna?"

"Will and I are going to talk on the patio," I said hurriedly, grabbing Will's hand and darting off to the back patio before Mr. Horan realized I was there.

"You didn't tell me your teacher was such a good looking bloke," Will said, the smallest hint of jealousy in his voice.

"He's not," I responded quickly, slamming the patio door shut before Will said anything else that could possibly be heard in the house. I turned to Will again, crossing my arms. "So who's Penelope?"

"A girl. How old is he?"

"He graduated university with the blond Irish one just a few months ago, but that's not what I wanted to talk to you about."

"What did you want to talk to me about, then, Anna?"

"Where are we going with this?"

"If you're talking about this conversation then I have no clue."

I opened my mouth to go off on a huge, quite noisy rant about whoever this Penelope girl was. I heard Mr. Malik's laugh faintly from inside the house and suddenly felt very hypocritical about what I almost said. "I just want to clarify something."

"We aren't exclusive," he responded, as if he knew exactly what I was going to ask. "You even said so yourself. We're still allowed to see and like other people. Right now we're just dipping our toes in, right?"

"Then everything is clarified." I wanted to stop myself before I sounded like a needy, desperate fool, but the words tumbled out of my mouth like marbles. "But, if things start to get serious with us, maybe that could change."

A small smile spread on Will's face as he tried his best to cover it by rubbing his face. "I wouldn't be against it."

I nodded with a soft smile before opening the patio door so Will could leave. I went in behind him, planning on saying a quick good-bye at the door and then doing whatever it took not to get within view of Mr. Horan. Mr. Malik was just walking into the kitchen with an empty wine glass when Will and I were passing through there. I expected them to maybe smile or nod at each other, but they both stopped, walking toward each other with an outstretched hand to shake.

"William Hanks," Will said with some cockiness. "Anna's friend."

"Zayn Malik," Mr. Malik introduced more comfortably. "Anna's teacher."

"Nice to meet you, Zayn."

"You, too, William."

I put a hand on Will's back to propel him toward the door before this situation became _really_ weird for me. Will gave me a quick kiss before leaving, sending a stealthy glance over my shoulder back into the kitchen before I closed the door. "Mum, do you want me to bring anything into the living room?" I called to her on my way back into the kitchen. "No, thank you, Anna," she called back to me before I heard Mr. Horan start laughing.

Mr. Malik was no longer in the kitchen but he had moved back out to the patio. Mr. Malik had told us in class that he had officially quit smoking about a year ago but sometimes whenever he felt like he really needed a smoke, he would separate himself from a crowd and "smoke fresh air". I stepped out onto the patio, making sure to close the sliding door behind me.

"Was that really necessary?" I asked Mr. Malik, narrowing my eyes at him when he looked at me.

"Is he your boyfriend?" Mr. Malik asked, his hands in his pocket.

"No." I did not bother to ask him why it would even matter if Will was my boyfriend.

"He seems to like you."

"Really? How would you know?"

He gave me a wry smile. "He didn't seem to like me."

"He doesn't know you."

"You know me."

No, no, stomach, do not flip because he said that, do not-…shit, you had to go and flip and get butterflies just because of three words. "You're my teacher, I have to know you."

He shrugged, stepping closer to me. I realized that every time he had spoken since I had gotten on the patio, he had moved a little bit closer to me. He was only about a foot away from me now. I waited for him to say something, but he just kept coming closer…and closer…and closer…

Until he passed by me and went back into the house to rejoin the rest of my family in the living room. I rubbed my arms to get rid of the goose bumps that had formed when he walked by me, his arm brushing my shirt sleeve. I rolled my eyes at myself as I fell onto the patio swing, mentally slapping myself for having a reaction like that over something so stupid. Big deal, his arm brushed mine. It was just an accident, something he had most likely not planned and would definitely not remember at all.

I lied down on the swing, pulling the blanket that had been folded in the corner around me so the chill that was starting to settle in would not affect me. I rested my upper back against the pillow so I was propped up a little, pulling my legs in slightly, tucking them under the blanket. It had been so warm earlier that I had worn shorts in a kind of celebration, but now I was starting to wish I had changed into longer pants before coming out on the patio. I was much too lazy to go back inside to change, though, so I was just going to suck it up for now.

My parents started to play music on the main speaker system in our house about a half hour later, just before my sister's bedroom light went on, which I knew was a signal that Mr. Horan and Mr. Malik were getting ready to leave. My mum walked out onto the porch to see how I was, probably guessing that whatever Will and I had talked about was the reason I had avoided talking with our company. Mr. Malik stepped out onto the patio just as my mum was getting ready to leave me alone again.

"I just want to talk to Anna about the writing competition," Mr. Malik explained.

"Oh, sure, go ahead," my mum said excitedly, her judgment clearly impaired by the amount of wine she had consumed. "She's been working on that essay all week." She patted my cheek affectionately with a broad smile. "It's all about her family. Such a sweet girl, my little Anna Lamb." My eyes widened in embarrassment at her use of my childhood nickname. "I'll go make a plate of cookies for you and Niall to bring back to your flat!"

My mum rushed back into the kitchen, humming the tune to the song that was playing inside. Mr. Malik glanced at the small space available at the end of the swing. I pulled my legs in closer to make room so he could sit down there.

"Are you all done with your essay?" Mr. Malik asked me after he had sat down.

"I think so," I responded, sitting up more and pulling the blanket off. "I mean, obviously it needs to be edited a lot."

"Maybe we could dedicate a class to it, let everyone give you their opinion on the piece. I was trying to think of something to do for a lesson on editing that would be interesting. Editing a classmate's work could be just the thing."

"I'm not sure…I don't think I would want them to read it until it's in the final phases of editing. It's not very good right now."

Mr. Malik put his hand on my knee when we heard a chorus of laughter from the far end of the house. "I'm sure it's brilliant, Anna."

I put my hand on top of his and he reached his fingers up so they interlaced with mine. "Thank you. Zayn."

He pulled his hand away from mine and went back into the house to leave. I was glad I had not gone off on William earlier because I really would be a hypocrite considering what had just happened. I knew that when I went to school the next day, everything would go back to normal, and he would just go back to being Mr. Malik again. For just a few seconds, though, he had been Zayn, my Zayn.


	10. Chapter 10

"Here, Liam!" I shouted to Bonnie's brother from across their backyard where I was playing football with him, Louis, and Reggie.

Liam passed the ball to me so I could pass it to Louis, who did some very fancy footwork before passing it to Reggie. Reggie and I had gotten to the Payne household almost forty minutes ago so we could meet up with Bonnie before going to the movies. Liam told us that she had texted him to tell her that their parents had asked her to work an hour extra at the music store to cover for their one other employee that was always showing up to work late. I have no idea why they have not fired him yet. Louis had already been there when we got there so we just started playing a bit of football. When my phone started vibrating in my pocket, I stepped back a few feet, turned, and answered it.

"You said we had to go to the next movie showing because Bonnie was working, right?" Abby asked me on the other end once I had answered.

"Yes," I responded, not sure where this was heading. "Why?"

"I just walked by the store and just her parents were working there."

"She might have been in the bathroom."

"You know how her parents are about letting her take breaks. She isn't even allowed to have her phone on her during her shift anymore. They take it from her and lock it up in back so she won't be distracted."

"She has her phone. She texted Liam to tell him she was working an extra hour."

"Maybe they just let her go a little early. Twenty minutes without a third person in the store is no big deal, and they know she has plans with us."

"Yeah. I'll call her to check."

"We're still on for the four o'clock movie, though?"

"Yeah, we'll see you there."

I hung up, dialing Bonnie's speed dial number to call her. I waited for it to get to her voicemail to hang up. Something had to be up; in three years that was the first time I had ever heard Bonnie's voicemail when I was the one calling her. The next time the ball came to me, I stopped it with my foot and motioned for Reggie and Liam to come closer.

"Have either of you heard from Bonnie?" I asked both of them. "Besides what she said about staying late at work."

"I just saw her quickly this morning on her way out the door," Liam said, clearly confused about why I was asking.

"The last time I spoke to her was yesterday afternoon," Reggie responded.

"What's going on?" Louis asked, bursting into our little group meeting.

"I think something's going on with Bonnie. She wasn't at the store. Actually, I don't think she's been there at all today."

"Where is she?" Liam asked seriously, suddenly acting very "Papa Smurf".

"I have no idea. I tried to call her but she didn't pick up. Reggie, do you know who she could be with?" I was drawing up blank on who she could possibly be with that she would have to create a lie to see.

"She started spending time with a few girls from Meringway about a month ago," Reggie responded after a few seconds of thinking. "She might be with them."

"Why would she lie if she was with them?"

Our answer came just a few seconds later when we saw a police car pull up in front of the house. Louis looked at us with a slightly gaping mouth as Liam took off at a jog toward the police car. The policeman helped Bonnie out of the back of the car while the three of us walked over. Liam helped a clearly drunk Bonnie stand as the policeman talked to him in a very authoritative tone. Reggie and I rushed over to get Bonnie and bring her inside. When I heard Bonnie's stomach make a weird sound, I ran her to her bathroom, telling Reggie to call Abby so she could come and help us. I held Bonnie's hair back while she threw up in the porcelain toilet in the bathroom off of her bedroom.

I walked Bonnie out to her bedroom where Liam was waiting with a glass of water and a very long lecture on drinking that Bonnie would not remember because she just started laughing halfway through. She was not blackout drunk, but she was pretty close to it. Eventually Liam gave up hope and stormed out, putting on a pot of coffee for his sister. I could smell some pancakes that Reggie had started making about halfway through Liam's lecture.

Abby showed up at Bonnie's house ten minutes later with some old blankets and pillows that we set up on the floor so Bonnie would not have to sleep in her bed, just in case she threw up again. We set them up right outside the bathroom and put the stand up tray with the pancakes and coffee on it next to her on the floor. Even though Bonnie was lying down and starting to drift off, she was still babbling about all different kinds of random nonsense. About every five minutes or so she turned to Reggie, who was sitting next to the tray, and reminded him that she "really, really, really" liked him. Abby and I sat near hear feet, not wanting to get in the way of her path to the bathroom.

"Is Liam here?" Bonnie asked, her words slurring badly as she propped herself up on her elbows.

"No, he went to make you more coffee," Abby responded. "Do you need something?"

"No. I just want to say somethin'."

"Yes?"

Bonnie wagged a slightly bent index finger at me with a small smirk on her face. "I know."

"You know what?" I asked her, giving a small laugh at the absurdity of the way she said it.

"I know. I know about the guy at Trix-ssssie's." Her hand fell to her side lazily but the smirk stayed on her face. "I saw him. Mr. Malik. You thought you could keep it a secret, didn't you?"

My entire body was frozen as I stared at Bonnie while she continued on. Reggie and Abby both had their eyes locked on me.

"Hey," Bonnie waved her hand, "I'm proud of you. I thought you were turning into a prude. He liked you. A lot. Too bad he's your teacher."

My eyes darted from Bonnie, to Reggie, to Abby, to Bonnie. Bonnie gave a boisterous laugh before lying her head down on the pillows and closing her eyes with a small sigh. I got off the floor quickly, heading out into the hall to get away from the smell of coffee, alcohol tainted breath, and disapproval. Reggie stayed in the room with Bonnie, but Abby followed me out into the hallway where I was leaning against the wall.

"Mr. Malik was the bloke Bonnie was telling me about?" she asked me calmly, leaning against the opposite wall. "The one at Trixie's?"

"Yes," I admitted quietly. "Mr. Horan was there with him. He had no idea who I was, so he kept trying to get Mr. Malik and I to dance together. It was a short song and I tried not to get to close."

"Yeah, you _tried_ not to, but did you succeed?"

I leveled my eyes with Abby but did not answer.

"Alright, that's it for me, I'm done." She started walking down the hallway with crossed arms.

I grabbed Abby's arm and yanked her back to face me. "Excuse me?"

"I. Am. Done. With you, with Bonnie, and with Reggie. You're this slut who dances with teachers at clubs she shouldn't even be able to get into because she's not old enough even though you have Will. Oh, and of course there's the well-known fact that you used your great ability to lie on the spot to get yourself out of every situation that would result in someone finding out. I'm surprised you're not even trying to lie your way out of it right now, seeing as that is what you always do to avoid confrontation and consequences. And Bonnie is off getting drunk in the middle of the afternoon with people she barely knows just because she feels like it. And Reggie is too blinded by his love for Bonnie and his loyalty to you to realize how irresponsible and stupid you both are, making him just as irresponsible and stupid."

"You want to know something, Abby? You're an effing prude who has no sense of fun, understanding, or life. I went to that club with the idea that I would just have fun with my two best friends, neither of which included you. Yeah, I wanted to dance with Mr. Malik, but _he_ was the one who pulled me on to the dance floor. And I'm happy he did, because I had a Goddamn good time, and I really like him. Now, I would like you to pardon Bonnie for making a choice that you, in your perfect little glass box of a world, never would even consider making. You're going to go through life alone because you're beyond straight-laced and uptight, you're a freakin' bitch that tries to suck the life out of everyone you meet because your bitter about the fact that you've never done anything fun. And as for your opinion on Reggie, he is neither irresponsible nor idiotic. He's top of our class and the guy everyone goes to for help for a reason. I'm sorry if you're helplessly in love with him, but I'm not sorry that it rips your cold, black heart in half every time you see him with Bonnie, a girl who actually knows how to love the people in the great life she has."

Abby reached up and slapped me across the face, making my cheek sting. I wanted to slap Abby as hard as I could, and maybe if this was my house I would have, but I did not. "And you wonder why no one likes you," I muttered, touching my cheek with the tips of my fingers. Abby went to hit my again, but Louis was there in a flash, grabbing her wrist before her hand hit my face.

"I think it's best you show yourself out now," Liam said from behind her. "We'll be sure to the send the blankets and pillows back unwashed."

Abby clenched her teeth angrily before storming down the hall, slamming the front door of the house behind her on her way out. I gave Louis a grateful look. From the expression on Liam and Louis's faces, I knew they had not heard a good part of the argument with Abby, which was really for the best. I walked back into the bedroom, moving to sit at the Bonnie's feet.

"How disappointed are you?" I asked Reggie, staring at Bonnie's tan face as she breathed slowly.

"About you dancing with a teacher and not telling us who he was? No at all," Reggie responded with a smile. "About your lack of colorful language back there? Greatly."


	11. Chapter 11

I walked into the school library, immediately heading toward the section that was dedicated totally to fiction. It was the first week in November so I did not have too much homework and had time for some pleasure reading. The teachers never gave a lot of homework at the beginning of a new month, except in January, after Christmas holiday. I was walking down the "R" row, looking for a title that jumped out at me, when I realized Mr. Malik was standing there about ten feet down the aisle. He did not notice me as he plucked the seventh Harry Potter book from the shelf and started walking away in the opposite direction.

"You hail Rowling, too?" I asked, walking quickly to catch up with him.

"Huh?" he asked, snapping shut the book cover as he turned. He smiled when he realized it was me, not some random student. "I can't deny it, I'm madly in love with seven inanimate objects."

"Inanimate?" We both started walking down the row. "If you even have the slightest hint of an imagination, you know those books are not inanimate."

"It is truly amazing that she created virtually a whole other world with a government, laws, secret locations, and even stereotypes."

"My dad thinks she must have smoked something really funny when she was younger to come up with all that."

We were at the back of the library where there were some double doors that led out onto the school grounds where it was pouring. Without discussion, Mr. Malik and I sat down across from each other at one of the wooden tables near the door. "He's probably half right. There's no way any of the world's best fiction writers came up with all their works without a few sniffs, puffs, or sips of _something_."

I crossed my arms and frowned indignantly, slightly offended by what he had said. "That's far from being even the slightest bit true. The reason J.K. Rowling came up with all those laws and stereotypes was because they are present in the world we live in. She perfectly mirrored every aspect of modern life, but just added a magical twist. All the spells were derived from different dialects of many languages that, when translated, are very literal to their meaning. She was a Goddamn genius."

"Shhhh," the old hag of a librarian hissed at me as she shuffled past, causing Mr. Malik to snicker a little when she was not looking.

"Well, you're quite passionate about defending her."

"I have great respect for her. She's very inspirational."

He leaned back in his chair. "Speaking of respect…what's going on with you and Abby?"

"What do you mean?"

He rolled his eyes with a mocking expression. "Every time you turn around she sends a death glare at you."

I shrugged, not wanting to explain to him what had happened since he was technically a part of it. "We had a falling out."

"Oh." I was glad he did not press further on the subject when he saw the look on my face. "Are you still looking for a book?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Read 'The Black Arrow: A Tale of the Two Roses' by Robert Louis Stevenson." He pointed in the direction of the "S" row. "A little bit of adventure, some romance, and a historical setting. It's a good break from novels set in modern times; opens up your eyes a little."

"I could have used that in Calculus this morning."

He laughed, promptly followed by the librarian shushing him. "I hate numbers. They make no sense whatsoever in my mind."

"Well, I can do simple things like add, subtract, multiply, and divide. Anything past that, though, and I just can't deal with it."

"You're lucky you can do those four things. I can barely add one plus one."

"Two plus two must be brutal for you."

"No, I've got it etched into my brain that two plus two equals the square root of a chinchilla's nose."

"You figured that out brilliantly, Zayn." My hand flew to my mouth the second the word was out of my mouth. "Mr. Malik, sorry."

He shrugged, clearly unable to care less. "It's fine." He sat forward in his chair again, putting his hand on the book. "The library closes in a few minutes so you should get that book now."

"Yeah, you're right." I stood up, pushing in my chair. "Thanks for the recommendation."

He smiled but it looked like he was holding something back. "Anytime."


	12. Chapter 12

I reached over, taking a crisp from the bag on the other side of where Will was lying next to me on the grass. Will held his camera up over his head again to take another picture that was for one of his classes. He had decided about three weeks ago to officially change his major at university to photography. After he was content with the picture he had taken he held the camera out to me to get my approval of it. I nodded, suddenly distracted by a familiar laugh off to my right. When I turned my head I saw Harry sitting on a bench across the park a ways. He nodded and smiled at me when he caught my eye, quickly turning back to the woman on the bench next to him who, despite her great hair and very revealing clothes, looked old enough to be his mother. What he did after he turned back to her was definitely not something he would do with his mother.

"How is that essay going?" Will asked me after checking something quickly on his phone.

"Pretty good," I responded. It still caught me by surprise when Will remembered something like my essay. "I have an editing session on Friday, after school."

"That's the last day before holiday for you, isn't it?"

"Well, my class had to write a short story for class and it's a good part of our grade for this term so everyone has gone afterschool to do an editing session with Mr. Malik. I pulled the short straw," literally, we pulled straws to see who went on what days, "and ended up with Friday, the day no one wanted. We have to edit two pieces: the short story and my essay."

"Who is this 'we'?"

"Mr. Malik and I."

He shut off his camera completely, placing it next to him. "Oh."

I turned my head to look at him. "What's the matter?"

"I just don't know if I like the idea of you all alone with him."

"There's nothing to worry about. There's a huge joke around the school apparently that he and Mr. Horan, the history teacher, have a pretty intense bromance going on."

I wanted Will to laugh but he still remained serious, a very bad sign with him. "I just don't really like him."

"Why not?" I tried to sound calm and carefree but my palms were starting to sweat. "He's a good guy. He recommends good books. Like the one that's been sitting on my desk for almost six weeks that is way overdue."

Will shook his head, still not convinced but also no longer interested in talking about Mr. Malik. "I thought you would be the type of person to whiz right through books."

"I'm just busy with schoolwork and stuff. Remember, I'm not at university, my schedule is much tighter than yours."

"Right, because my schedule is so free. It's not like I take every odd job I can get."

"Speaking of which, my mom is moving to a new office a few floors up so she needs a big, strong young man who is willing to move boxes…" I nudged his shoulder with mine.

"Sure, that's fine. Just text me the day and time."

"I'll do that."

Will glanced up, looking to the right. "Ew, that's an ugly dog."

I followed his line of vision until I spotted the puppy golden retriever that was going by the bench where Harry and his old lady were still having a good time. "Are you kidding me? That puppy is adorable!"

"I meant the one that curly-haired bloke is snogging."

I started laughing, putting my hand to my mouth to muffle the sound so it would not start anyone too much. Will put an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to him.

"You know," Will said thoughtfully, "I think this Christmas is going to bring about a change."

"What kind of change?" I asked him, watching the clouds float by as they changed from orange to pink to light purple in the sky. I knew exactly what kind of change he was talking about because of his tone of voice.

Will shrugged. "A very good change."

I smiled, still looking up at the sky. Hours later, when I turned off the lights and crawled into bed, I felt something hit my hand under the pillow. I flicked on the lamp on my nightstand, lifting my pillow up. A book was lying face down under my pillow, probably put there the night before when I fell asleep. I was so tired that I could not even remember what book it was. When I placed it on my desk I saw the title: "The Black Arrow: A Tale of the Two Roses".


	13. Chapter 13

"I'm freeeee!" Bonnie exclaimed as she ran across the grounds to crush me in a huge hug before grabbing my hands and jumping up and down excitedly. "I'm not grounded anymore! I can do whatever I want!"

"Within reason," I reminded her, giving her a serious look in the eye.

"I know, I know. Where's Reggie?"

"I think he's in talking to one of his teachers. You know Reggie, he spotted something he got right on a test that his teacher said he got wrong."

"I'm going to go find him." Bonnie started to run off, but she quickly backtracked before I could continue on into the building. Before I realized what was going on, she hugged me again. "Thank you, for everything you did."

"It was no big deal, Bonnie."

She backed away. "I'm sorry about causing that argument between you and Abby. I'll talk to her for you."

"No, don't. It's not worth it. She can just go on giving me death glares during Advanced Writing, I don't care."

"Speaking of Advanced Writing, what's going on with you and Mr. Malik?"

"Nothing."

"Oh. You don't have any feelings for him or anything?"

"Bonnie, where are you going with this? There's nothing going on, you know that." I wanted to say that I had Will, but we still had not really made anything official yet so I did not want to psych myself out by calling him my boyfriend.

"Well…have you heard?"

"Heard what?"

Bonnie hesitated slightly before saying, "The rumor about Kimmy."

Kimberly "Kimmy" Lockhart was in my Advanced Writing and my history class this year. We had had a few other classes together over the course of our school careers, but we were not really friends. However, I was on good enough terms with her that I was able to avoid being a subject of her nasty gossip that always seemed to be going around school.

"What rumor?" I asked, but I already knew what this was without knowing the exact rumor itself.

"She's saying she and Mr. Malik are in love. She said they've been in a relationship for two months."

I started laughing so loudly that a few people stopped what they were doing to turn and stare at me like I had ten heads. "You're kidding me, right? No one is going to believe that."

"A lot of people do, though. It's spreading through the school like a wildfire."

I rolled my eyes at Bonnie's exaggeration. "Please, the rumor will be dead in minutes. It's not believable in the slightest."

During Calculus, the only thing I could hear was the sound of people spreading and talking about the Kimmy and Mr. Malik rumor. People really believed that Kimmy and Mr. Malik were in a very serious, very exclusive, very steamy relationship. A group of students next to me believed it so much that they were even starting to plan out the scene that would ensue when Mr. Malik got fired, which involved a table breaking in every scenario they came up with. Reggie, however, was uncharacteristically quiet all during class, not even making his daily joke about my prowess in math when I got the answer to a homework problem completely wrong. I guessed Bonnie must have told him about our conversation from that morning, I just did not know in what way exactly she described my half of it.

I subconsciously found myself walking at a faster pace than usual to Advanced Writing, passing by most of the people in that class. I even passed by my friend Don, who was always the first or second person into class, depending on whether he beat Abby there or not. He gave me a slightly curious look but then went back to talking to some of his mates that he was walking with, never really being one to question other's actions.

I was just about to enter the Advanced Writing room when I saw that Mr. Malik was talking to Kimmy Lockhart, who was standing opposite him on the other side of his desk. I stopped far enough back from the doorway that I could not hear them but I could see their lips moving and the expressions on their faces. Well, to be honest, I did not pay attention to Kimmy's expression because in that moment I felt too disgusted with her to acknowledge her. Mr. Malik's voice was blank but every few words he would move his eyebrows or tilt his chin a little so you could tell he was very intent on whatever it was that he was saying. Despite the fact that his arms were folded, I could see his hand sticking out, the fingers twitching like he was nervous.

I suddenly realized that the rumors could very likely be true. He was nervous around her, and guys got nervous around the girls they liked. He obviously was very intent on finishing up their conversation before anyone else got there, and he was so absorbed in the conversation that he had not even noticed I was there. Why would he notice anyone? Kimmy was pretty. Granted, it was a slutty kind of pretty that was only achieved by adding ten pounds of makeup each morning and receiving a nose job for her seventeenth birthday, but she was still pretty. She was prettier than me, at least, that much was obvious. Why shouldn't Mr. Malik like her?

How the hell had I let myself be stupid enough to believe that Mr. Malik could like me? Or at least to think that he found me to be the slightest bit more special than the rest of the people in class? Everything that had happened had all been in my head, and he just went along with it sometimes because he pitied me. He probably thought I was a needy, desperate girl who was hopelessly in love with him and he just did not have it in his heart to tell me that it was never going to happen. Ever.

I pulled out my phone and held it at my side, sending Will a quick text to meet me at Pemberley's at eight, right before the karaoke started. I do not know why I got the sudden urge to text him, but I just had. When I turned to put my phone in my backpack, Abby walked up behind me. I stepped to the side so she could walk into class.

"Ready for your editing session?" she hissed maliciously under her breath as she walked by me. "Or has he cancelled for plans with Kimmy?"

I would have thrown my phone at her head had Don not jogged down the hall to ask me something about our Environmental Sciences homework from the day before. He also gave me the message that Sherri wanted me to meet her at the right wing entrance during our free so we could work on our project for history. I walked into class with him, going right by Mr. Malik's desk without a hello or the slightest hint that I realized he was sitting there. Don gave Mr. Malik the usual high-five, just like a few of the other boys in the class did when they walked in. The boys in the class had come to get along very well with Mr. Malik, but today they all seemed hesitant to banter with him or joke around as much as usual.

Mr. Malik tried his best to keep the classes attention on the sample we were reading, but it was painfully obvious that no one's minds were on the writing sample, not even Mr. Malik's. He looked tired, anxious, and drained. For a second I felt a little pang in my heart when I saw how he looked and watched him rub his face with a small sigh halfway through the class, but then I quickly remembered why he was so anxious and got over it…a little bit.

All throughout class Mr. Malik asked questions and called on everyone except for me. His message was coming across loud and clear at the moment. When the bell rang, I practically jumped out of my seat just to get out of there before I said or did something I would regret. When I passed Mr. Malik's desk I wanted to ask him if he was okay or if he wanted to talk, but I did not. I knew he was expecting me to do exactly that, to fawn over him like I had apparently been doing too much and too obviously since the beginning of the school year, but I did not. I would not ever again.


	14. Chapter 14

"You have to," Reggie said, giving me a look that resembled one my father gives me when I try to get out of taking out the rubbish. "This short story is a huge part of your grade, and you need someone with a degree in English to look at your essay."

"I don't want to," I whined as Reggie and Bonnie pushed me down the hallway to Mr. Malik's room. "I don't want to. I don't want to. I don't want to."

"Shut up and edit!" Bonnie practically screamed at me before pushing me into the classroom with more force than I was expecting from her.

I turned as I stumbled into the room, falling clumsily against the desk closest to the door. "Anna!" Mr. Malik shouted, jumping up from his desk and starting to rush over. I held my hand up to let him know I was okay before smoothing my uniform skirt and adjusting my shirt. When I looked up I saw that Mr. Malik's face still held the emotions it had during class earlier that day.

"How long will this take?" I asked him in the most professional tone I could muster as I resisted every urge I had to ask him if he was feeling alright.

"An hour, maybe a little bit more," Mr. Malik responded in a quiet voice. "It might even take less time because most of the teachers have already left so there will be fewer distractions."

"If Mr. Horan's here you might be distracted."

"He's out looking for a flat for us." Mr. Malik did not even try to come up with a witty comeback for my little jab. He started walking towards his desk where a chair had been moved up against the side of it. "Would you like to start?"

"Well, I can't want to end unless I start." Mr. Malik managed to give me a small amused smile before pulling a red pen out of his desk drawer.

I sat down in the chair beside the desk, a little relieved at the distance that was between Mr. Malik and me. I placed my book bag on the ground, pulling my writing notebook out of it and dropping it on the desk before I pulled out my own pen with purple ink. I flipped to the middle of the notebook where a folder was built in, the typed copy of my short story tucked away neatly at the top. I pulled it out, handing it to Mr. Malik so he could start reading it. I was surprised when he dropped it in front of him and turned to me.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked me, raising his eyebrows curiously.

"What's wrong with _me_?" I asked him in utter disbelief. "You're the one who looks like you're going to drop dead any second."

"I only got a few hours of sleep last night. I was reading a good book."

"A book by the name of Kimberly Lockhart?"

Mr. Malik's eyes widened as if he had just had the epiphany of a lifetime. "You believe all those rumors?"

"Meh…" I mumbled, crossing my arms and slouching down a little in my chair as I made my eyes float anywhere in the room except near his face.

"Are you kidding me? I've spent all day denying those rumors and reassuring the rest of the staff that they are untrue. I even gave Kimmy a month of detention in the library for it, and she might be suspended or expelled! Why do you think I'm so worn out? I've had to spend all day trying to prove my innocence to just about every single person in this school!" Mr. Malik slammed shut one of his desk drawers that had not closed entirely. "And on top of all that, I was worried about what you might be-" He stopped short suddenly, clearing his throat. "I was worried you might not come for your editing session."

"You know, you've had a really long day. We can just do this after holiday, if you want. Or I can just go without an editing session. One bad grade won't affect my overall grade too much." I started to reach for the short story as I spoke.

Mr. Malik snatched the short story away from my outstretched hand like it was a piece of his chocolate cake that I was trying to steal. "No, I'm fine. Everything is all over now so I'm good. This will probably put me in a better mood anyway. Let's get started."

"Um…are you sure this will only take an hour? I kind of have a date later on."

"With Will?"

"Maybe."

"Was he the one you were texting before class?"

I scratched my chin briefly to keep my jaw from dropping. "You saw that?"

He smirked, his eyes turning to the short story. "I see all."

For some reason I felt my cheeks get a little pink when I realized how quickly and rashly I had judged him before I found out his side of the story. He was never in a relationship with Kimmy; that was all just her being, well, Kimmy. By tomorrow she would probably have come up with an elaborate fabrication about a dramatic breakup that involved tears and flowers and a painful heartbreak that would leave her with scars for a lifetime. Then, by about Sunday night, she would be back to being worried she was knocked up with a stranger's child.

Mr. Malik's eyes flew across the words on the paper as he read it, making little marks or comments every few minutes on it with his pen or reading a particular line he liked out loud. I liked to add a little bit of humor to my short stories so every now and then he would chuckle a little. Twice he read a sentence out loud in a very funny voice that made me double over in laughter. It was the voice he always used for his iconic saying whenever he felt like goofing off a little with some of the boys: "Vas happenin'?"

"Pretty good," Mr. Malik remarked after he had read it over a second time through just to make sure he had not missed any spelling or grammar mistakes, "but not your best work. I liked the essay you wrote comparing the metamorphosis of a butterfly to a bird hatching from an egg."

"Well, this was just kind of rushed," I admitted. "I'm better at writing essays or writing short stories that are only partially centered on romance, not totally centered on romance."

"Don't get me wrong, it's the best one in the class, but I feel like you're holding back."

"How?"

"You make their actions when they're having a conversation very distant, when at all other times their very intimate. When you're talking to Will, do you really stand feet away from him, no physical contact at all?"

I looked down at my hands folded in my lap. "No…"

"The conversation is great, I just think you focused on it more than you focused on what they were doing _while_ they were talking. Try adding a few things now."

I started to reach over with my pen in my hand so I could write on the paper when Mr. Malik grabbed the side of my chair, pulling me over so I was right next to him. I tried not to let my breath catch when suddenly I was surrounded by the scent of his cologne and could feel his leg pressed against mine. Mr. Malik pushed the paper over to me, trying his best to conceal the little smirk that had spread on his face.

"So, when Jess says that to Ashton," I started to say as I placed the tip of my pen on the paper, "she'll reach out and take his hand. I mean, she's trying to be gentle and comforting, but she also knows that now isn't the time to be smothering. Ashton is clearly glad to see this and wants her to know that. What would he do?"

"You're the author, you decide."

"But I don't know how a boy would respond to that. I would only be able to write his physical response from the female perspective because that's the only way I've ever seen responses like that. If you were Ashton, what would you do?"

"I'm not Ashton. You created him, you have his personality and his actions in your hands."

I groaned, unable to think of absolutely anything that I could write down. "Then just tell me in _general_ how a man would respond in a situation like this."

Mr. Malik shrugged as the smirk came back. "This is how you grow as an author."

"Fine!" I looked back at what I had written for Jess's reaction. "Ugh, that's crap. I need to rewrite it."

I started to move my pen to scribble out the words when Mr. Malik's hand shot out, grabbing my hand. He closed his hand tightly around mine before I turned to him with an annoyed look. I totally forgot I was annoyed with him when I saw him staring back at me, looking right into my eyes.

"I don't know what Ashton would do with Jess," he said quietly, "because that's up to you. I do, however, know what I would do if I was in Ashton's place and I was lucky enough to have a girl like you say what Jess did."

Mr. Malik reached up, placing his hand lightly against the side of my neck. He dragged his fingers up my neck, down my jaw line, and then onto my cheek. I put my hand on his shoulder as we both started to lean forward. I could feel his heart beating through my hand the closer we got to each other.

"_I thought I saw a man brought to life_," a voice bellowed down the hall. "_He was warm, he came around like he was dignified._"

Mr. Malik and I both knew from the accent that it was Mr. Horan singing the song. We both quickly leaned back in our chairs, staring at each other with wide eyes. Mr. Horan strolled into the room with a little skip in his step, a huge smile on his extremely pale, cheerful face. He took one look at us before his smile faded and it was written all over his face that he now knew who I was.

"I'm sorry," all three of us said at the same time.

"You're sorry?" Mr. Horan blurted before Mr. Malik or I could ask that same question. "I was the idiot who made you two dance! I should have realized you were too young to be there."

"No, I'm sorry, I should have told you I was his student," I told Mr. Horan as Mr. Malik glanced between the two of us.

"You two haven't been…?"

"No," Mr. Malik responded, but it sounded sharper than I was expecting. "Nothing's been going on."

"Yeah, he's just my teacher, I'm just his student. We were editing one of my short stories." I stood up, gathering up my short story and my notebook and shoving them in my book bag. "Thanks for your help. I'll see you on Monday. Bye, Mr. Horan."

I walked out of the classroom with Mr. Horan and Mr. Malik both burning holes into my back.


	15. Chapter 15

"You look very nice, Ms. Holmes," Harry said as we passed him on our walk home from church just up the street about a week after Christmas.

"Oh, why thank you, Harry," my mum replied sweetly with a smile. "You look very nice, too, young man."

Harry winked at her, making her giggle and call him a little cheeky rascal, but I knew she was flattered by the compliment. When we got to our house, Amalie was waiting at the door with her arms outstretched to my mum. My father walked by behind her in the hallway, rolling his eyes at her.

"Mummy, I love you," Amalie said in a childish voice as she squeezed my mother in a huge hug. "I really, really, really love y-"

"I know about the concert," my mum said, taking off her scarf with one hand as she looked at my sister. "I'll drive you and one other person, but only one other person. And you're paying for your own ticket."

"The tickets will be worth two rotten eggs and a moldy banana!" my father shouted from the kitchen before turning on the dishwasher.

"Be quiet!" my sister snapped at him, her old little bit of attitude returning once she had received what she wanted. "They're a new band; they're just gaining their footing."

"You only want to see them because you fancy the guitarist," I muttered under my breath on my way up the stairs behind Amalie.

"Better than fancying my teacher," my sister said almost so quietly I did not hear her.

I ignored the comment, seeing as many of the sort had been coming from her lately. I knew she knew something, I just did not know what exactly it was that she knew. I had not spoken or seen Mr. Malik at all since practically sprinting out of his classroom before holiday. In a few days I would be going back to school, something I was really dreading.

"Will and I are going out later, you know," I told my sister before I went into my room.

Amalie turned, folding her arms and leaning against a wall in the hallway. "And you're telling me this because…?"

"I just thought it was something you might want to know."

"I think I know enough already, but, uh, thanks anyway." She made a clicking sound with her mouth as she pointed a finger gun at me and turned to go into her own room.

I took a shower, dried my hair, and finished changing just moments before Will appeared at my door with a huge grin on his face. Ever since he had told me about his plans for change around Christmas, he had been acting extremely giddy and happy. Today, however, he was a little too giddy and happy, so I knew something special must be coming.

"Are we going to Pemberley's right now?" I asked him.

"Yeah, sure," Will responded, his voice strangely high as if he could barely contain his excitement.

The entire walk there we made small talk, but we both knew that there was something much greater and more important on our minds than just the weather. Once we had found a seat in the small restaurant near my school, Will decided it was time to start talking about what had been making him act so strange lately.

"Do you remember how I talked about a change before Christmas?" he asked me, his eyes nearly locking with mine.

"Yes," I responded a little bit too quickly. "Did you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about it? No! I want to play with it!"

After that last remark, I was thoroughly confused. "What?"

Will pulled a thin piece of plastic out of his pocket with the screen lit up. "My new phone that I ordered on Christmas just came in!"

I felt every muscle and bone in my body begin to droop. "That was the change you were talking about?"

"Yes, what else would I be talking about?" He lifted the phone up to me as he started hitting random icons on the screen. "It's way better than my old phone. The image is crisper, the camera has a higher resolution, I can get more apps, the data plan is faster, and-"

"Great." My voice was dripping with sarcasm and a lack of enthusiasm. "That is just fantastic."

"Isn't it? I knew you'd love this!"

I nodded, taking a chip from the large plate full of them that was on the table between us. I bit into it ferociously as I watched him play with his phone like a baby receiving their first piece of candy.


	16. Chapter 16

"Are you ready for the spring dance?" Sherri asked me as she jogged over to me, her ponytail bouncing along behind her.

"It's only the third week in January!" I reminded her as she fell into step next to me. "I haven't thought about that dance at all!"

"Well, you should start thinking about it. Ask Will to come! A bunch of people are inviting students from last year to come back, and almost everyone from Meringway is coming."

"I thought people from Meringway weren't allowed at our dances anymore." Usually, I did not go to these types of things, but it was my last "casual dance" before prom and graduation, so I was going with a big group of eleventh years. "I mean, after last time…"

"They're all sneaking in, just like the people from university. It's going to be mental!"

"Which just makes you want to go even more, right?"

"Exactly!"

I laughed as we parted ways in the hall so I could get to my next class before the bell rang. I was just a few feet away when my phone started vibrating violently in my backpack. I checked to see who it was before ducking into an alcove behind a thick curtain, picking up as quietly as possible.

"Hello," I whispered into the phone.

"Hi, sorry to call you at school," Will said on the other end, "but a mate of mine just said he was going to a dance at St. Beatrice's in March. Is that legal?"

"Yes, of course it's legal."

"Well…were you thinking about asking me to go?"

"Why is everyone so fixated on this dance? It's over a month away!" The bell rang noisily to signal that next class had started. "Class just started, so-"

"Do you not want me to go?"

"I didn't want to make plans this far ahead in case you had something else you wanted to do that night. I didn't want people to get the wrong opinion of us if I brought you, either, seeing as we aren't officially a couple." _Still_.

"Oh…Yeah, I get it, sorry."

I heard footsteps start walking down the corridor, getting closer and closer to the alcove where I was. Even though the curtain hung all the way to the floor so it covered my feet, I was still afraid whoever it was might hear me breathing too loudly or would notice that the curtain was still swaying slightly.

"Anna?" Will asked on the other end. "Anna, are you there?"

"Sh," I hissed into the mouthpiece of my cell phone, but it was too late.

The curtain swung back in one movement to reveal me standing there with my phone pressed against my ear. I felt my thumb hit the button to end the call when I saw Mr. Malik standing there. Even though in class we had acted like nothing happened at the editing session except for editing, this was the first time we had really seen each other since then. We did not even get the chance to attempt to say something before we both heard the distinct clicking sound of the headmistress's heels on the tiled floors just around the corner.

Mr. Malik pushed me deeper into the alcove, pulling the curtain closed behind him so that the light from the hallway was totally blocked out by the thick cloth. I managed to slip my phone into my backpack in complete silence but I could still tell that Mr. Malik was sending me an alarmed glare in the pitch darkness. Part of the reason I could tell that was because his eyes were very close to mine, seeing as the alcove was not exactly designed to fit two people in it. My book bag was really not a major help as it pressed into my back at a very painful angle. I could feel Mr. Malik's breath on my cheek as the headmistress walked right by the alcove, the steady pace of her footsteps showing that she had never noticed or suspected anyone was hiding behind the curtain.

Once the headmistress's footsteps had faded, I counted to thirty under my breath before starting to move, just to be safe. I assumed Mr. Malik would move once he heard me stop counting, but his feet stayed cemented to the ground. I placed my hand on his chest to try to push him back, which was about as successful as trying to push back a brick wall in your path.

"I have class," I reminded him in a whisper, my hand still against his chest.

"Were you on the phone with Will?" Mr. Malik asked. "Is he going to the dance?"

"Are you freaking psychic?"

"No, I just overhear way too much gossip in my classroom. They said some university students might come. I may not be good at math, but I can still put two and two together."

I tilted my head to the side with a wry smile. "So that it equals the square root of a chinchilla's nose?"

Even if I could not see a thing, I knew he smiled. "I was just wondering. I was supposed to chaperone but Niall and I are going for our final look at apartments that day. We're narrowing it down slowly from twenty to three over the next few weeks."

"Sounds like grueling work."

He tilted his head in the opposite direction of the way mine was tilted. "It will be."

We were so close to each other that if one tectonic plate had shifted the slightest millimeter at that moment, we would have kissed. "I should get to class."

"You should."

"What should I tell my teacher about being so late?"

Mr. Malik opened the curtain and stepped out with me right behind him. "It's up to you," he responded with a smirk as he started walking down the hall. "You're the one who's late."


	17. Chapter 17

"Where's your phone?" I asked Will in a mocking tone that he did not pick up on.

"At my dorm," he replied, ripping the blade of grass he had picked out of the ground to pieces as we walked by the park.

"I thought you loved the change over to the new phone."

He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pocket and looking ahead. "I have this weird issue with change. I mean, I'm totally open to it, I just have to take a while to adjust, you know?"

"Okay…" I nodded, even though I was a little lost by what he had said. "I mean, it's just a phone."

"Yeah, but it's still a change. I'm like that with all types of change. I can deal with slow change, but I can't deal with sudden change." He scratched the back of his neck with a little nervous laugh. "You know what I mean?"

"I guess. I usually just try to stay as open as possible to change, no matter how slow or how sudden. That is, unless I think the change is really bad, and then I do everything I can to stop it."

"Well…you know the change we were talking about? The one we talked about a really long time ago."

My eyes widened but I was looking ahead as we walked so he could not see my reaction to what he had said. "Yes. What about it?"

"You don't consider that a bad change now, do you?"

"Not at all."

"Good." He took my hand in his with a new skip in his step, twisting his arm so it went around my shoulders but he was still holding my hand. "I think it's time for us to start that change. I don't want to go right into it, though."

My smile broadened as I realized that it was finally happening, Will and I were becoming exclusive. I stretched my neck up to give him a quick peck on the lips when he looked down at me, waiting for my answer. "That's fine. We're good at taking things slow."

"Yeah. I mean, I figure, if you've stuck around this long, you must be special, right?"

My smile faltered slightly but I ignored the little sick feeling his words had given me. "Yeah, I guess. By the way, that dance is coming up in a couple weeks, so would you want to go? I know you had mentioned it a few weeks ago."

"Yeah, sure I'll go. By the way, what happened after you hung up? You never told me afterward. The call just ended."

"I got caught talking to you."

"I didn't hear anyone else on the other end."

"It's kind of a long story…"

"I've got time."

"Well, when you called I went into an alcove off the hallway where a thick curtain was so I could talk to you without getting caught. When the bell rang, I tried to hang up, but you kept talking and my next class was Psychology. My teacher, Ms. Halbert, always gives a boring lecture at the beginning so I wouldn't have missed anything too important if I went late. I heard a teacher coming so I tried to be as quiet as possible, but the curtain was still swinging a little, and Mr. Malik caught me. I hung up before he started talking."

"Did he give you detention?"

"No, he just told me to put the phone away and get to class. He's not like the rest of the teachers at the school who are all extremely uptight and straight-laced."

"Clearly."

I peered up at Will, masking my little bit of surprise at his tone with a questioning gaze. "What was that supposed to mean?"

"How old is Mr. Malik again?"

"He'll be twenty-three in two weeks." There is actually a funny story about how my class knows that, which involves a call from his mother in the middle of class when his cell phone was acting up so that the whole conversation was on speakerphone.

"And you'll be eighteen in three weeks, just a few days before the dance."

"What point are you trying to make?"

"I just think that you should be careful around him. He might have some other ideas about you that stretch beyond a student/teacher relationship."

"Far from it, Will. This girl in my writing class, Kimmy Lockhart-"

"Yeah, I know her."

I was startled, suddenly wanting to know how it was exactly that he knew her, but continued on with the story. "Well, Kimmy tried to spread a rumor that she and Mr. Malik were in a relationship, but it got shot down by him in a heartbeat."

"Maybe that's because she's not the student he's interested in."

"Nothing is going on!"

Will looked down at me. "I didn't say there was, I just said to be careful."

"You don't have to worry. Mr. Malik doesn't even have woman on his mind lately because of all the chaos around his and Mr. Horan's apartment problems. They found one early, but the current tenant isn't moving out for another month, and they just realized how much they'll have to move in."

"You know, I haven't had too many jobs lately, and I could really use some extra money. If they were willing to pay a little for a university student to help them with the moving, maybe you could give them my number."

"I think I'd have to worry more about you alone with Mr. Malik than you need to worry about me alone with Mr. Malik."

He squeezed my shoulders with a smile. "I doubt that." He should not. "Besides, if I spent some time with him, maybe my opinion on him would change."

"It's very nice of you to offer them the help. I'll let Mr. Malik know next class."

"Wait…you've been alone with Mr. Malik before?"

I shrugged as if it was absolutely nothing. "Just for a short editing session."

"Editing? So, you were within a few feet of him?"

A few inches were a far better measurement. "A few feet? Barely." I curled my free hand up in a fist as my guilt threatened to overpower me and I told Will what had really happened at the editing session and when I got caught on the phone with him. "I'm hungry. Let's go get some ice cream."


	18. Chapter 18

"This dance is so contradictory," I said as I stuck the glittery emerald green mask with purple sequins around the edges against my face. The adhesive felt weird at first on my skin. "It's a masquerade themed spring dance two weeks before spring officially starts."

"Don't be such a downer," Bonnie said, hooking her arm around mine before dragging me out of her room at a very fast pace. She adjusted her gold mask that matched the gold tank top she was wearing with a black skirt high up on her hips. "This will be so much fun! The only reason the dance committee decided to make it a masquerade was so it would be harder for the teachers chaperoning to recognize the kids from Meringway and university. The most exciting thing is, you won't know who you're dancing with."

"I know who I'll _want_ to be dancing with, though. The only problem is that he won't even be there."

"Just forget that Will won't be there. It will still be brilliant!" Bonnie and I waved to her parents before we walked out the front door. Reggie was waiting in his dad's car at the curb.

"I'm sure it will be but I'm just worried. I mean, Will's mom is in the hospital, shouldn't I be there?"

"You've only officially been official for a few weeks now so-"

"That was so redundant it was ridiculous."

"Shush. You haven't even met his mother yet. I'm sure these are not the circumstances you'd want to meet her under. It was a minor car crash, anyway, so she'll be recovered in no time."

"I know…" I opened the door to the back seat and slid in. "Hey, Reggie."

"Hi, Anna," Reggie greeted with a smile toward my seat. "Do your parents know you're wearing that?"

I rolled my eyes as Reggie's protective instincts started to show. "My mum said it looked cute, if you really must know."

"Just checking. Hello, gorgeous." Reggie kissed Bonnie on the cheek as she shut the door to the passenger's seat on the left side. "You look stunning, don't you?"

Bonnie just rolled her eyes and looked ahead again but I saw the light shade of pink rise to her cheeks like it always did when Reggie gave her a compliment. Bonnie never blushed, except when Reggie said something like that. She commented on how nice he looked, too, as he pulled out onto the street. I lifted up Reggie's plain black mask off the seat next to me to examine it on our way to St. Beatrice's.

I adjusted the green V-neck shirt with a rose design embroidered on the front that I was wearing over a black tank top. I had to wear a tank top under it because the entire back was made of a black see-through material. I was wearing black shorts and a pair of simple black pumps with it. Normally I would not wear shorts at this time of year, but I knew it always got really warm inside the gym when there were dances, which was part of the reason why I had not worried all that much about my hair and just put it in a ponytail with some of my side bangs tucked behind my ear.

I showed my ticket at the door to the gym before stepping into the mass of people in masks with Bonnie and Reggie close behind me. We immediately went over to where Don, Sherri, and Sherri's boyfriend, who went to Brunel, were dancing in a big mass of other eleventh years that I was friendly with. It was hard to recognize a few people because of their masks, but their hair and style of clothing gave them away. I saw a few lads who had to have been from university turn to stare at Bonnie as we walked over to the group, causing Reggie to slide an arm around her waist with a discreet glare in their direction.

"Oh, I love this song!" Bonnie exclaimed as "International Love" came on over the speakers. "Why, would you look at that, it seems like you've already got an admirer."

I turned to look in the direction where Bonnie was looking but all I saw was a pair of black shoes escape into a mass of people quickly. I turned back to Bonnie, who shrugged with a small smile.

"He seemed hot from the neck down," Bonnie said. "He was wearing a mask with zebra print on it that covered his eyes and nose, though. He had a guy with him that was wearing a huge lion mask, mane and all."

I tried to forget about what Bonnie had said, but it seemed like every time I moved I saw zebra print out of the corner of my eye. A couple guys asked me to dance, but I refused them all. I got a text from Will about a half-hour after I got there that told me to have a good time with my friends. Shortly after, a group of university boys tried to break into the group of eleventh years and started dancing with girls without asking. One tried to dance with me, but I stepped on the toe of his shoe with the heel of my shoes. He apparently thought it was funny and started laughing as he walked toward me again with a weird smile.

A man in jeans, a red polo shirt, and a giant lion mask camcame out of nowhere and pushed the boy back. The boy just stumbled back with a surprised look before walking away. I knew from the familiar blond hair poking out behind the lion mask that the man was Mr. Horan. He turned to me with his arms crossed.

"People these days," he remarked in his Irish accent.

"Thanks," I said to him. "I thought you weren't chaperoning."

"Well, since Zayn and I can't move in for another four weeks because the tenant is staying longer, we were no longer busy."

"Do you mean that Za-Mr. Malik is here?"

"Of course he's here. He's got that zebra mask on. We weren't told that the teachers weren't really supposed to wear masks. We decided to leave them on anyway, just for the hell of it."

"Zebra mask?"

"Yeah, he has a soft spot for zebras. You know, Zayn, zebra, they both start with Z."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it."

"So, are you having fun?"

I blinked, still finding it hard to understand that it was Mr. Horan behind that absurd lion mask. "Yeah, a lot, thanks for asking."

"Well, that's good."

Mr. Horan walked away, jumping up and down a little when it came to a part of the song that he apparently liked. It was like a little Horan Hop or something. I turned back to the group, not paying attention to the look that Bonnie and Reggie exchanged as they watched Mr. Horan walk away.

About an hour later, when I was walking back from the refreshments table after having a much needed cup of water, Reggie jogged over to me. Bonnie was not with him, nor was she dancing with the group of eleventh years.

"Where's Bonnie?" I asked him, looking around for her. The last thing I wanted to do was lose Bonnie in a room where the girls from Meringway who had gotten her drunk were milling about, probably all with mini-flasks stuffed in their bras.

"She's in the AT's room," Reggie said, pointing to the half-lit hallway near the entrance of the gym that led to the athletic trainer's room. "She said she doesn't feel good. She said it had something to do with, uh," Reggie stretched his neck uncomfortably, "girl stuff."

I nodded in understanding, patting Reggie's shoulder. "I'll go find her. There's probably some aspirin or something in that room anyway."

I walked over to the hallway, starting toward the half of it where the lights were not on. At the front of the hallway were the two bathrooms but at the back were just all the offices for the athletic supervisors and the closet full of sports supplies. The athletic trainer's room, which was set up like a doctor's examination room, was the last room on the right at the end of the hall. From under the door I could not see any lights on in the room, so I assumed Bonnie was having really bad cramps or a headache and was just deciding to lie down until I got there. The athletic trainer's room was always open because out athletic trainer was a bit of a ditz when it came to anything besides treating injuries and he often forgot to lock it when he left. I pushed the door open as quietly as possible because Bonnie was always extremely irritable during the first couple days.

"Bonnie, hon, you okay?" I asked in a low whisper as I stepped more into the room.

There was no response at all, just an eerie silence. I could not even hear someone breathing. I flicked on the lights, but I hit the wrong switch so it only turned on the one light that was over the desk instead of the lights that lit up the entire room. However, since it was so dark, I only needed that little bit of light that cast a faint fluorescent glow around the room to be able to tell that Bonnie was definitely not there.

"What the he-"

"Anna?"

I froze, turning slowly to face Mr. Malik. He was standing in the doorway with his mask stuffed into the pocket of his jeans.

"What are you doing here?" we asked each other at the same time.

"Reggie told me Bonnie wasn't feeling well," Mr. Malik told me.

"He told me the same thing," I said, folding my arms. "How do you know Reggie?"

"I'm boarding in the apartment over his garage for now."

"Why would he lie to us?"

"That one I don't have an answer to."

"Oh, really?"

"Maybe Bonnie's not really sick."

"Wow, you're just another Einstein, aren't you?" I snapped at him.

Mr. Malik stepped toward me angrily. "Hey, it's not like I asked him to do this."

"Are you sure about that?"

"One hundred percent positive!"

"I thought you were bad with numbers!"

"And you're bad at acting!"

"What the hell does that have to do with this?"

"You can't even pretend like you don't want me here!"

"I'm not trying to pretend, I _really_ don't want you here!" Mr. Malik reached out, pulling the mask off my face in one swift movement and throwing it on the desk. "What the hell?"

"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me here!"

I knew exactly what would happen if I looked him in the eye, and it was not what I wanted to happen at all. "No."

I picked up my mask off the desk before walking out of the room, never looking back at Mr. Malik.

Zayn watched her walk out of the room. He slumped against the wall next to the door and sank to the ground. He could not think. All he knew was that he had just screwed up with her like he never had before. She would not blame Reggie, just as he would not. They would pretend as if nothing had happened, something they had both become quite good at. He placed his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his folded hands. If anyone had walked in, they would have thought he was in a very philosophical position and would just assume he was contemplating the great questions of life. It was no different from when he was talking to her in class. He would remain calm and collected on the outside, while on the inside he was crumbling.


	19. Chapter 19

"Just open it for God's sake!" Amalie practically screamed at me as she stared at the envelope in my hands.

I looked up at all the people crowded into the kitchen: my mum, my dad, my sister, Bonnie, Reggie, and Will. They were all waiting expectantly as I stood there holding the letter, my hands trembling slightly as I realized what I was about to do. Inside that letter was either an acceptance or a rejection letter to St. Andrew's. I had already received acceptance at Brunel and St. Mary's, but St. Andrew's was really where I wanted to go. The second I had first heard about it, I had fallen in love with it. In my eyes, my life was virtually in my hands right now, waiting to be opened.

"Personally, I don't get why they send their acceptance letters out so late," Bonnie started to think out loud when it became obvious that I was frozen with my hand on the flap of the envelope. "I mean, all the deadlines for the payments are in two weeks, the first of April, so they don't give the accepted students too much time to mull over their other choices."

"There are no other choices if I get accepted!" I told her sharply. My hands started to shake even more. "What if I got rejected? Maybe that's why the letter came so late."

"Oh my God, just give me the damn letter," Amalie finally sighed in exasperation.

Amalie snatched the letter from my hands, tearing the flap open in one swift motion with her thumb. She pulled the paper out, letting the envelope drop to the floor with a very faint sound as it hit the floor. We all stared at her as her eyes raked over the paper in front of her. I thought I was going to puke, sing, dance, scream, cry, and faint as I watched her without even breathing.

Once her eyes had reached the bottom of the paper, Amalie sighed heavily and sadly, throwing the paper on the kitchen counter. I bit my bottom lip to keep it from quivering as my eyes started to sting a little at the idea that I had been rejected by the school of my dreams. I had checked all the requirements, fulfilled them all, and looked at the statistics. The odds that I would get in were beyond in my favor.

"Well, this sucks," Amalie said, slumping onto a chair at the kitchen table. "With you off at St. Andrew's, mom and dad will never let me go to Hogwarts."

I stared at my sister for a few seconds before running toward her, crushing her in a huge hug. "I love you so much!"

"Save it for Will, honey." She patted my back as I pulled away from her.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

Amalie flipped her hair, sending the scent of her strawberry shampoo in my direction. "Well, I _am_ an actor." She started to stroll out of the room, swinging her arms dramatically by her side.

"I'm so proud of you, Anna Lamb," my mum said as she hugged me tightly. "Aw, my baby is going off to college."

"Did you get any money?" my dad asked before my mum could even stop hugging me.

"Dad!" I shouted at him, glancing quickly at Reggie, Bonnie, and Will.

My dad raised his arms in surrender. "They're parents would ask the same thing. All parents would."

"Not in front of company, though."

I reached for the letter, reading through it to see if they had mentioned anything about even the slightest bit of money. My stomach still fluttered a little when I saw the first line that read "Congratulations, you have been accepted to St. Andrew's…" I was barely past that when I noticed Amalie had stopped in the doorway and turned.

"Just in case you all were wondering, she did get a scholarship," Amalie remarked. "She got-"

"Fifteen thousand Euros for all four years!" I shouted as I read the paragraph that held that information.

"Alright!" my dad shouted, clapping his hands together happily. He gave me a hug. "I'm so proud of you, Anna Lamb."

"Yes, Anna Lamb, so proud," my sister mimicked in my dad's voice.

"Can you all stop calling me Anna Lamb? I just got into college, not kindergarten!"

"Well, I'm proud of you, too, Anna," Bonnie said, giving me a hug as Reggie patted me on the shoulder. "Between your acceptance and scholarship and Reggie off to Oxford, I look like a complete idiot."

"Aw, Bonnie, you aren't an idiot, you know that."

Bonnie shrugged with a smile. "Whatever. Will, get over here and give your girlfriend a hug and a snog! She's going to college!"

Will started a little at the word "girlfriend" but walked over to me, hugging me and giving me a quick peck on the cheek. He always felt uncomfortable about kissing me on the lips in front of my parents, partially because my dad was always glaring at him when he was within a foot of me. Will cleared his throat noisily as he was scrutinized under another one of my dad's death glares.

"Once you win that writing competition, you might get offered even more money," Bonnie added.

"Yeah, have you edited that essay yet with Zayn?" Reggie asked, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. "I mean, Mr. Malik?"

"He's actually reading it this weekend," I replied, scratching my cheek to avoid looking at Reggie. "He's going to give me his notes on Monday and I'll make up the final draft. I've still got a little over a month before I can send it in."

"I heard the top winners get to go to a huge banquet," Reggie continued on. "They announce the winners only a couple weeks after the final submission deadline, and the banquet isn't too long after that. The student, the student's family, and the teacher are all invited."

"Is that so?" my mum asked, still absolutely beaming. "That sounds quite fun! Zayn seemed like such a sweet young gentleman when we had him over for dinner a while back. I was actually thinking about calling Niall to see if he wanted to stop by again with Zayn. They could probably both use another good home-cooked meal. You know what, we aren't busy next weekend!"

"I was actually going to take Anna out for a celebration dinner," Will suddenly put in, reminding me of why I liked him so much. He knew that the last thing I wanted to do was have dinner with Mr. Malik and Mr. Horan just by the way my shoulders tensed the slightest bit when my mum suggested it. "I already assumed she would get in so I made reservations at L'Amour."

"L'Amour?" Bonnie and Amalie shrieked at the same time. L'Amour was one of the most expensive restaurants in London.

"Yes, L'Amour. If we had to cancel, though, then-"

"No, no, no!" my mum cut him off as she waved her hands wildly. "If Anna has plans with you, that's fine. She sees Zayn everyday, I'm sure she would like a break." Oh, mother, you have no idea. "In fact, I think I might the Tomlinsons and your family over, too, Bonnie, so we can have a little dinner party."

"That sounds brilliant, Ms. Holmes," Bonnie said with a broad smile. "But, unfortunately, just like Will and Anna, Reggie and I have reservat-"

"No, we don't," Reggie hastily interrupted. "We'll both be at the dinner party. I heard the dessert isn't even that good at L'Amour, so you two should come back early to take part in these fine festivities that will ensue." Reggie was staring coldly at Will as he ended his sentence.

"On the contrary," Will said, meeting Reggie's cold gaze with one of his own, "I heard the dessert is heavenly. We might even stay there until closing time just trying them all."

"Will-" I began to say, but Reggie continued on as if he did not hear me.

"Is that so? I don't know if it's only me, but it seems like you've been trying awful hard to avoid Zayn Malik. Or am I just _batshit crazy_?"

"Reggie!" my mother gasped, giving him a scolding look. "Don't use that language in my home!"

"I think it must just be you, Reggie, because no one else seems to think that," Will finally responded. "And, since you have such an interest in my interaction with Zayn, I feel obliged to tell you that I will be helping him move into his new apartment in two weeks because my lovely girlfriend Anna offered my services at my own request. Are you satisfied now?"

Reggie's jaw clenched. "Beyond your wildest dreams."


	20. Chapter 20

"I'm sorry it took so long," Mr. Malik said as he shuffled through some papers in his draw. He was wearing his black-rimmed glasses, just like he had worn them earlier in class. "I just wanted to make sure I edited it well."

"It's really no big deal," I said, shrugging. "I just love staying after on Fridays when I have fancy dates with my boyfriend."

"You know you could have done better."

"Yeah, it's been an off day, my humor is a bit weird. Oh! You meant the essay?"

"Yes." He handed me the essay so I could put it in the folder in the middle of my writing notebook. "It could have been much better."

"I didn't see too many red markings on there so obviously it was very good for a first draft."

"Yes, it was very good for a first draft from any other student besides you. I have very high expectations with your writing-"

"Clearly."

His eyes flashed angrily. "I'm trying to give you constructive criticism, could you just listen for about two seconds?" When I did not respond, he continued. "It was a very open and sentimental essay that gave me a good idea about how much you love your family and friends. It's just…I don't think it's your absolute best work."

"How is that?"

"Like it said, it's sentimental, it's just not _personal_. You put in that essay what any other person writing on that topic would be expected to put. You need something more personal and original, something that will stand out to the judges."

"It's not about impressing the judges, it's about impressing myself and doing the best I could."

"I don't think you did that."

I was suddenly furious with him, throwing my notebook down on the desk so that papers flew out of it. "Where do you get the right to talk like you know me so well?"

Mr. Malik slammed his hands down on the desk. "You tell me."

"Let me guess, your next suggestion was going to be that we have another one on one editing session. I'm sure you'd love to see what 'personal' things came out of that!"

"What happened last time will never happen again, I can assure you of that!"

"That is the best thing I've heard all day." I gathered my papers off his desk in a rush, shoving them into my notebook. "I won't be at the dinner party tonight, in case you were wondering."

"And that's the best thing _I've_ heard all day."

I backed up a few feet when I put my notebook in my backpack. "You shouldn't talk to your student like that."

Mr. Malik gripped the edge of the desk. "You stopped being just my student a long time ago."

"No, I didn't."

"Are we still doing that? We're still just pretending like nothing has ever happened between us?"

"Nothing _has_ ever happened!"

"That's because you won't let it!"

I groaned, turning to walk swiftly out of the classroom. I had forgotten how close to the desk I was in my hurry to get out of that room and my toe caught onto the leg of the desk, sending me sprawling onto the floor. My shoulder hit the floor painfully as I slid a little on the tiles. When I turned to sit up, Mr. Malik was right there next to me already. He went to touch the shoulder closest to him, the one that had hit the floor, but I smacked his hand away because my shoulder was throbbing with pain.

I was just about to stand up when I realized my shirt had stuck to the floor when I was sliding, revealing most of my, now bright red, shoulder. I moved to pull the sleeve up again but Mr. Malik grabbed my hand. I met his eye for a moment before he leaned down, planting a quick, gentle kiss on my shoulder. He moved his way along my shoulder and up my neck, hesitating for a second near my lips. I was so shocked for a second by how great his lips on mine felt that I did not even realize what was happening. I had not really known what was happening the entire time, my mind in a crazy, hormonal fog.

The instant the fog cleared, I pushed Mr. Malik away so quickly and unexpectedly that he fell onto his back. He scrambled to stand up at the same time I did. He went to say something but I ran out of the room, pulling my sleeve up over my shoulder that was just as red as my face at that moment. I felt tears start to sting my eyes for reasons I could not explain. I refused to let the tears fall, though, because I had to go home to get ready for my date with Will.

"I just hope Bonnie doesn't go to crazy without Reggie and me there to calm her down," I said over my broccoli and chicken cream soup, the cheapest thing I could find on the menu.

"Mhm," Will mumbled thoughtfully as he cut his pork.

"And it will be so weird not having Amalie there with me."

"Mhm."

I decided to change the subject since Will was clearly not interested in where this conversation was going. "Do you have any plans next weekend?"

"I'm helping Zayn move in on Saturday."

"I don't know if you should still do that. Mr. Malik and I got into a bit of an argument over an essay and-"

"So you two are on bad terms right now?"

"I guess you could say that, but-"

"I really need the money, though, Anna." He reached across the table, taking my hand in his, something he had never done at dinner before. "You understand, right?"

"Yeah. I get it. That's fine."


	21. Chapter 21

Niall bit into his large pizza as Zayn and Will moved the last of the furniture in the living room. They went back out into the hall where Zayn's bureau was waiting to be moved into his bedroom where all the rest of his furniture was. Admittedly, Zayn and Niall both hated the furniture that they had gotten with the apartment when they bought it, but for the next few weeks or months it would due. Niall especially did not mind having free passage to get as many food stains on the sofa as possible because they would only have it for a short time.

"Uh, Zayn, can we talk for a second?" Will asked when he and Zayn were in the hallway. Will leaned against the bureau before Zayn could even give him a verbal response.

"Yeah, sure," Zayn said, understanding Will's body language perfectly. He wanted to talk about Anna, that much was obvious. Zayn was just unsure what it was about Anna Will wanted to talk about specifically. "Is there a problem?"

"Why did you and Anna get in a fight over her essay the other day? I read it and I thought it was pretty good."

You also do not have a degree in English, dumbass, Zayn thought sharply and bitterly. He instantly felt ashamed for his thoughts but covered it up with a slight clearing of his throat. "I just didn't think it was personal enough."

"It was about her friends and family."

"That doesn't automatically make it personal."

"So what exactly would have made it more personal? Should she have mentioned, I don't know, _you_ in it?"

Zayn was really starting to regret ever taking Anna up on the offer to hire Will to help him and Niall move in. "I don't understand what you mean by that."

"I think you do."

"I know I don't."

"You've always got an answer, don't you?"

"It's not that hard to come up with the truth."

"Just don't get too close to Anna, okay?"

Zayn's jealousy overpowered his reason after the last remark. "I think you might be too little too late with that warning."

Will sprang forward, grabbing Zayn's shirt at his shoulders and slamming him against the wall. "What did you say?" he growled in Zayn's face.

Zayn pushed off the wall with his back, taking Will's collar in his hand and slamming him up against the opposite wall. "I just said you better treat her like she deserves to be treated," Zayn spat menacingly at Will.

A lazy smirk formed on Will's face. "You think I'm not?"

"I know damn well you aren't."

The smirk just grew bigger and bigger as Will continued to talk. "Why don't you ask her what she thinks of that place behind the shed at the old boatyard? I'm sure she'll be the first to tell you that I treat her damn well there."

Zayn slammed Will against the wall again for good measure. "Get out of this building before I seriously mutilate your face."

Zayn stepped back, letting go of Will so he could saunter off down the hall with that stupid smirk still plastered on his face. When Zayn turned, he saw Niall standing there with a different kind of smirk on his face, munching away on his sausage pizza like he had just watched one of his favorite television shows.

"I haven't seen you act this way since that guy tried to hit on Ellie," Niall said in between bites. "And you weren't even close to being that bad or that scary."

"It's nothing," Zayn muttered, heading for the bureau.

"Nothing? Oh, so it's nothing that you freaked out more on a guy dating one of your students than you did on a guy flirting with your girlfriend of three years?"

"Ellie and I broke up a year ago, you know that."

"I most definitely know that! I was there with the largest box of tissues I could find when you two broke up, I know all about it. That girl tore your heart out, shredded it, stepped on it after shredding it, set fire to it, and put the fire out with dirty water before she pulverized it."

Zayn placed his hands on the bureau, getting ready to lift it. "Thank you for the reminder, Niall."

"She left you in pieces, and you hadn't looked at a girl for months. I was starting to think you were totally broken. But then Anna came along."

"She's my student!" Zayn lifted the bureau up, walking toward the doorway where Niall was still standing in his way. Zayn looked right at Niall.

"You still like her."

"I don't like her. I'm simply her teacher, and she is simply my student. One of my better students, actually."

"You're falling in love with her."

Zayn was done with this conversation. "Niall, move!"

Niall looked Zayn in the eye. "Just be careful, mate, eh?"


	22. Chapter 22

I read over the essay one last time before placing it in the manila envelope that already had all the postage on it that was necessary to send it. I glanced at the address in the center of the envelope, realizing the building where this was going was located only a few blocks away from my house. It would take less time for me to walk there and drop it off than it would for me to mail it. My essay would certainly be more memorable to the judges if I just strolled into their main office and threw the paper down on one of their desks. I was certain Mr. Malik would love to hear the call from their office about his rude and bold student. Hey, at least after that he would find the essay more personal and memorable.

My sister stormed past me as I walked out the front door. She started banging her feet on the stairs as she went up them, making sure to give dramatic sighs, huffs, and puffs all the way up. I did not even have to ask what had caused her to become in a suddenly bad mood because I knew it was all Baxter's fault. Baxter was the tenth year who was almost constantly cast a the male lead, something Amalie could not stand because it gave hardly any of the other boys a chance, though she would openly admit Baxter had the most talent out of all the boys. They were constantly at each other's throats. My mum and I were already planning their wedding.

When I was walking down the street to the mailbox at the corner, next to the pharmacy, I saw Harry walking toward it from the other direction. He flashed me a quick smile with his wide mouth before dropping a small envelope in the mailbox and turning to walk away again. I put my own large envelope in the mailbox before turning to walk back to my own house. I was halfway up the street when a familiar car pulled up along side me at a slow pace, stopping when I did. Reggie rolled down the window to the passenger side and leaned over to talk to me.

"Hey," he said, "are you going home or do you need a ride somewhere?"

"I'm just going home," I replied. "I only needed to mail my essay."

"Did you have Zayn go over it one more time?"

"No. Why do you call him Zayn? I mean, I get he used to live over your garage and all, but still…"

Reggie shrugged. "He's my friend, not my teacher. You're the one who's his student."

"You don't need to remind me, I know perfectly well."

"It must suck."

"My essay?"

Reggie rolled his eyes with a small smile, picking up on my coyness just a few seconds too late. "No, it must suck that Zayn is your teacher. I hear all the girls have drool dripping down their chins most of the class."

I laughed, scratching the side of my head. "I guess that's true for some of the girls, not me, though." Based on how Reggie was acting lately when it came to Mr. Malik and me, I wondered exactly how much Mr. Malik had told him. I hit the inside of the car door through the open window. "Well, I'm probably making you late for whatever it is that you're on your way to."

"I'm going to dinner with my grandparents. Really, I should be thanking you right now."

"I wish I could stay longer, but I have some homework I need to get done before I go for a run. You should join me sometime."

"Ha, ha, that's a good one, Anna."

I smiled at him. "I'll see you on Monday, Reggie."

"See you on Monday."

When I got home I went up to my room, sitting down at my desk after turning on my iHome on my nightstand. My sister screamed from her room to turn the music down, even though it was not that loud at all. She added a comment at the end about how it was messing with her "feng shui". Considering what context she was using it in, I do not think she has any idea what that means.

As I was pulling out my notebook to start on my history homework, my writing notebook fell out of my backpack. I was instantly distracted when I saw my writing notebook, which was really nothing new considering what it was. It was no wonder that I was always doing my homework at the very last minute; I spent almost all the free time I did have writing. That notebook was my own little house, with every essay, poem, idea, and story one of my children. I cherished what I wrote more than anything in the world, and part of cherishing it was not letting people read half of it. Well…I had gotten better about letting people read my writing, but I still kept a few pieces that were very personal to me secret and tucked neatly away in the very back of the notebook.

I suddenly felt the need to go over something of mine that I considered to be very personal, just to do a bit of editing in case I ever did decide to let other people read it. I did not want it to be totally horrendous when I gave it to someone else to read or edit themselves. I flipped open to the back of the notebook where, I thought, there would be a couple pieces of paper that I had written months ago even though it had only seemed like weeks. It was the utmost personal essay I had probably ever written, solely because it described the exact reason why I loved to write. I had never written anything on such a personal level.

I thought my heart was going to explode on the spot when I realized it was not there.


	23. Chapter 23

On my way out of Advanced Writing I found myself subconsciously avoiding the spot on the floor where I had fallen, where Mr. Malik had kissed me. For the past few weeks I had not even been able to look at that spot because of how quickly the memories came back. At one point during class on that very day, Mr. Malik had walked by my desk, sending a wave of his cologne to wash over me. I went into a strange form of shock at the scent, causing Abby to cast a mix of a sneer and a questioning glance back at me.

"Anna."

Goose bumps instantaneously formed on my arms even though I did not feel the temperature in the room drop at all. If anything, my face suddenly felt about one hundred degrees hotter. I pressed my hand to my cheek quickly to try to get the sudden color out of them before turning to face Mr. Malik. He had moved from out of his seat to lean against the front of his desk, his arms crossed. He was looking ahead, his body silhouetted by the rare sun right outside the window. For a second I was stunned, my brain nothing but a scrambled mess. I quickly regained my composure as I walked over to the side of his desk, already knowing that he was going to ask if I had sent in the essay for the contest and probably make another remark about how it was "sentimental, but not personal". Color me surprised when he did not ask that at all.

"Why didn't you tell me about the other essay?" Mr. Malik asked, still not looking at me.

"What other ess-"

I stopped myself before I finished the question, suddenly realizing exactly what essay he was talking about. Clips of my memory played through my mind like a movie trailer: bits from our argument over the friends and family essay, throwing my notebook down, papers flying out, hastily picking up all the papers I thought were mine, finding the empty space at the back of my notebook. It took all I had not to take Mr. Malik by his quiff and smack him against the nearest wall.

"The essay about writing," Mr. Malik responded to my unfinished question after a few seconds, glancing back over his shoulder at me. "Why didn't you submit it to the contest?"

"It was an extremely personal essay!" I exclaimed hysterically.

"Which is why you should have submitted it. That essay was amazing, pure gold. I've never read anything of yours quite like that. That is an essay that could have won the contest."

"I strongly doubt that."

Mr. Malik spun, uncrossing his arms so he could place his fists on the desk. "Stop acting like you don't think you stand a chance in this contest. We both know you're going to be one of the top winners, you just won't be _the_ top winner."

"If I recall correctly, one of your many life lessons that you told us was that life isn't about winning."

"It's not about winning a game. It _is_ about going for something you want, doing your best, and being able to say you think you won. Do you think you won, Anna?"

"No! Okay? I don't think I won! I don't think I won because I know that essay I sent in wasn't the best, and I know the writing essay was great, but it was great for me and me alone. I don't want other people reading it because I practically took a giant piece of my soul and put it on that paper."

"That's why it's so amazing. You're writing is always better when you put some of your soul in it and let your emotions out. You've done that on a few other pieces that were great, but you did it all throughout this essay."

"It wasn't for anyone else's eyes but mine."

"I have a right to read anything left on my desk."

"I didn't leave it there on purpose. It was left there because I got pissed off at you."

"Isn't that all you do lately? Get pissed off at me?"

"Give me my essay back!"

Zayn-Aw, crap, I mean Mr. Malik, shook his head slightly. "There's no way I'm giving it back to you. You'll rip it up."

"I would nev-"

"You will!"

"This is bullshit!"

"I won't tolerate swearing in my classroom!"

I let out a deep breath. "But you'll tolerate kissing your students, won't you?"

Mr. Malik stared at me for a few seconds, no emotion registering on his face. "Get out of my classroom."

"Give me my essay back."

"Get. Out."

"Give. It. Back." I folded my arms, shifting my weight onto one hip. "Or will I have to 'win' it back? I mean, life is suddenly all about winning, right?"

"Did you not pay attention to anything I said?"

"I've kind of gotten used to pretending all encounters between us never happened, I guess the process just got speeded up so that now half our conversation we just had never actually happened."

"Mature, Anna, really mature."

"You want mature? How's this for mature?"

I reached up, slapping him quickly across his jaw. His head snapped to the side with a shocked expression. I turned on my heels, walking out of the room before I could even see him reach his hand up to his cheek. I kept walking down the corridor, down the stairs, out the front door, and across the grounds. I knew the school would not bother to call my parents to tell them I had missed the rest of my classes, but that was only because I was an eleventh year and they were lenient about that with us. An administrator was once straight out asked about it by an eleventh year earlier in the school year, and they had just mumbled something about "stress" and "hectic schedules" before quickly bringing up another subject that they were "suddenly reminded of".

All the way home, I could not help but think about what Mr. Malik had said about how life was about being able to tell yourself that you thought you had won and done your best. Before I reached home, I made a quick stop to get a bottle of soda at the fish and chips shack where Harry was currently working his shift. He smiled brightly at me when he saw me, probably happy to see his first customer under sixty years old that day.

"What can I get for you, Ms. Holmes?" Harry asked.

"Just a bottle of Coca-cola," I responded, placing the necessary amount of money on the counter for him to put in the cash register. "Harry…I have a bit of a strange question."

"Yes, it's real." He shook his hair for emphasis. "I don't even use product! Would you believe it?"

I laughed, taking the bottle of Coke from him. "No, I meant a strange question about life. Do you ever feel like you've won?"

"Yeah, I win plenty in football."

"I meant in life, and even with people. Do you ever feel think, when you see something amazing you did or a person, 'wow, I've certainly won'?"

Harry thought for a second, scratching his chin a little. "I guess I have." His cheeks got a little pink before leaned closer to me, lowering his voice. "I mean, when I see my family, I certainly think that. But…usually, with girls, I don't. I was still looking for that feeling with a girl, that winning feeling. There's this one girl, though, that I met a couple months ago, and whenever I see her it just brightens my day. I get that same feeling in my heart that I do when I win a major football match. I can't help but smile around her."

"What? Is she the oldest woman you've ever dated?" I teased.

"We aren't even dating! Or close to it! I wish we were…The craziest part is, though, and you're going to love this: she's _the same age as me_." I let a small fake gasp escape my lips. "She's nothing like the woman I usually date. I try not to have a preference, but I mostly lean toward blonds, and she's a brunette. I like taller girls, but she's so petite. I also never cared about eye color that much, but…her eyes. They're so green and big and beautiful. I can't look at them enough. On top of all that, she's a great person and mate! I just look at her sometimes, and, I guess, I feel like I've won."

"Aw, you're in love with someone you wouldn't even expect. That's so cute."

Harry shrugged, straightening back up. He was smiling as if he was relieved to have finally gotten all that off his chest, and I knew that now that he had talked about it he was going to do something to try to win this girl over. "Maybe it's true that we don't pick who we're in love with."

"Or maybe it's totally up to us. Bye, Harry." I started walking away from the shack with the bottle of soda in my hand.

Harry waved from behind me. "Bye, Anna! Thanks for the chat!"


	24. Chapter 24

I wrapped my earbuds around my iPod as I walked into my house, wiping some sweat off the top of my forehead with the back of my hand. I dumped out the little bit of water left in my water bottle before placing it in the kitchen sink. Amalie was pulling a large array of things out of the refrigerator and cupboard, placing them out on the counter before her. I went up to my room, put my iPod away, and came back downstairs to sit on a chair at the kitchen table to watch my sister.

"What are you staring at?" she snapped at me, almost breaking all the eggs in the carton as she plopped it carelessly on the counter.

"Are you trying to bake again?" I asked her, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes. Is there a problem?"

"No, not yet. Who knows what will happen once you start, though."

"Be quiet! I want to do this just about as much as you want to walk on a floor made of hot rocks."

"Why are you baking then?"

"My language teacher is really into Spanish and Mexican culture so he wants us to bring in food for Cinco de Mayo."

I looked at the calendar on the refrigerator just to make sure I did not have the date wrong. "But today is the sixth of May…"

"Well, I kind of forgot we had to bring in food, so he said I can just bring in brownies on Monday to make up for it."

"What's so cultural about brownies?"

Amalie placed a large bowl firmly in front of her with a determined expression. "I have no idea, but no one was opposed to the idea."

"Here, I'll help you make them. Last time you made brownies you got more shell than yoke in the bowl."

I ended up doing most of the mixing. The only thing Amalie really did was comment from the sidelines and turn on the oven timer. I even had to readjust it right after because she had put the brownies on for the longest time possible. If Amalie is bad at baking, she is even worse at cleaning up. Coincidentally, the amount of time it took her to "just wash her hands" in the bathroom upstairs was the exact amount of time it took me to clean off the entire counter and put all the ingredients away. We both sat down at the kitchen table as we waited for the brownies to finish baking. Amalie placed a bottle of quick-drying nail polish on the table, stretching her left hand wide on the table to start painting them the neon blue color she had selected. Her elbow hit the bottle, almost knocking it over and spilling the contents all over the place. I managed to reach out in a flash, snatching it before it made our kitchen table the same color as her nails. Amalie gave a small sigh of relief.

"What are you going to do without me next year?" I asked her lightly.

"Oh, I don't even want to think about it," Amalie responded just as lightly, but there was something else that had suddenly fallen over our conversation after she answered. "Are you really looking forward to going all the way to St. Andrew's?"

"Yeah. I've been in love with that place since I first heard about it."

"Well, Bonnie will still be here, at Brunel. I just thought you might miss her."

"Of course I'll miss her, she's my best friend." I noticed the look in my sister's eyes as she tried to conceal it by looking down to examine a nail she had just painted. "I'm going to miss you, too."

Amalie flipped her hair with the hand she had not yet painted. "Well, of _course_ you'll miss me. You won't have anyone to constantly nag you to run lines with them."

"You won't have anyone here to bake any Cinco de Mayo brownies a day too late for you, or to tell you when you're being too much of a drama queen."

"I'll find someone. They just won't be as smart as you."

"Speaking of smartness…I expect you'll keep your marks up next year while I'm gone. I know you want to be an actor, and you don't see the importance of things like history and math, but you need to focus in school."

"Ugh, fine."

"Besides, if you have great marks on top of your amazing acting skills, you'll be full scholarship gold by the time your turn for college rolls around."

"It's already started up. Dad's been pushing college brochures at me in the car whenever he takes me to rehearsal."

I waved my hand carelessly. "Don't worry about that, he did that to me to. It's why I started walking places more. I got exercise and I avoided Dad's pushiness. Two birds, one stone."

My sister nodded with a knowing look. "Good idea. I should start walking to rehearsal. It's kind of far, though, and I don't think I would want to walk over around that part of town alone…"

I smirked at her. "Have Baxter go with you."

"Shut up!" She slapped me with her left hand, the nails now dry. "I hate that boy. He's so conceited and rude and he acts like a complete arse all the time and he's just…ugh!"

"Oh, did I not get the save-the-date card? Don't tell me your own dear sister isn't even going to be in your wedding!"

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" She continued to slap me with her left hand as she tried to resist the smile spreading on her face. "He is a _terrible_ person! I don't like him!"

"Oh, please, you _love_ him."

"I resent that! I don't like him at all!"

I raised my hands, palms facing up. "You still aren't denying that you love him."

"You are the worst sister ever!"

"Love you, too."

She finally stopped hitting my arm, leaning forward to hug me. "I do love you, Anna. I'm going to miss you next year."

I was a little shocked at how open she had suddenly become about this. I reached up, hugging her back tightly. "I'll miss you, too, Amalie."


	25. Chapter 25

Will and I sat on the swing on my back patio, looking up at the dreary gray sky on the thirteenth of May. Will had his arm around me, his camera lying next to him on the swing.

"Oh, I'm helping your English teacher again," Will said out of the blue, causing me to start a little. He had never said anything about the time he helped Mr. Malik and Mr. Horan move into their apartment. I was never in certain he had actually gone to help them.

"That's nice," I managed to say, but all I could see in my mind was Mr. Malik as he leaned closer to kiss me that day in the classroom. The knot of guilt forming in my stomach made me want to throw up on the spot. "What are you helping them with?"

"They got some new furniture, I guess," Will responded. "Apparently they it's not coming in for two weeks because they got it from a cheap furniture store in Ireland that Niall loves. They're shipping is really slow."

"I didn't know you and Mr. Horan had kept in contact."

"We hadn't. Zayn called me up the other day and asked me if I was willing to work for a little extra money. I wasn't about to say no."

"Oh…" I swallowed back the urge to ask if he and Mr. Malik had ever talked about me, but that would be a very selfish and arrogant question to ask, so I kept it to myself. "That's good. I mean, you guys are about the same age-"

"He's four years older than me."

"It's still within the age range of a general demographic for young adults." Will gave me a strange look that clearly told me I had said something that sounded crazy. "It's not that big of an age difference. You three should go out for a drink after, hang out a little."

Will shrugged, his shoulder hitting the back of my head. "I don't think that would be a good idea. Zayn doesn't seem to like me that much."

"I'm sure he'll warm up to you soon enough. He might have just been stressed last time, being that he was moving in for the first time and all."

Will side glanced at me with some skepticism on his face. "I'm pretty sure that's not it."

"What do you mean?"

My innocent question caused the suspicious look to vanish, replaced by a softer one. "Don't worry about it, I didn't really mean anything by it."

"Oh, okay."

Will stayed for a couple more hours. He walked out of the house just as the mail for the day was arriving. I took it from our mailman with a smile and a small nod before turning to walk back into the kitchen, shuffling through the mail just in case there was anything for me. I was starting to lose hope that there was anything for me in the mail until I spotted my name on the address of the very last envelope in the pile. I looked in the corner, immediately recognizing the address of the building where I had sent my essay. I threw the rest of the mail on the kitchen counter before tearing open the envelope flap without hesitation.

I pulled out the thick piece of paper that was folded three times, unfolding it with nimble fingers as my sister walked into the room, sipping soda out of the can with an extra long straw. Across the top of the paper, in elaborate gold script, where the following words: "Congratulations, Anastasia Rose Holmes, you have received first place in the essay writing portion of the England Student Writing Competition of 2012. In the overall competition, you have come in second place, receiving £1,000." The paper went on to discuss the details of the banquet ceremony that would take place on May twentieth.

Amalie sipped loudly out of the straw as she read the paper over my shoulder. My parents were out shopping for food so they would not be home work a couple hours, especially with the way my dad got sidetracked by food. I knew the second they arrived home and found out about this they would start smothering me. Ever since my mum had realized I was graduating in a little under a month, she had been going a bit overboard with the mummy-love. It was easy enough to understand, but it was really starting to get annoying.

"Oh, come on, I can't go!" Amalie exclaimed, slamming her now empty soda can on the counter indignantly. "There're only four tickets: one for you, two for your parents, and one for your teacher."

I double-checked the address. The hall where the banquet was being held was over and hour and a half away, outside of London. "Mr. Malik's said before that he doesn't like driving long distances alone. I doubt he'll go."

"Maybe he can go along with you three."

"Uh, I doubt he'll want to do that."

Amalie tilted her head to the side, getting a dangerously curious look in her eye that was always accompanied by her nose wrinkling a little. "Why not?"

"We got in a couple arguments a little while ago over this essay…and another one."

"Have you talked since?"

"Barely, only in class when absolutely necessary."

"You two haven't talked about the kiss at all, have you?"

I dropped the paper on the floor in shock. "Excuse me?"

"I'll take that as a no…"

It was no use trying to lie to Amalie. "How do you know?"

"You talk in your sleep when you're stressed. It's a good thing mum and dad sleep on the first floor."

"Amalie, please don't tell!"

Amalie held her hands up innocently. "I won't tell a soul. This is your problem."

"It's not my problem anymore."

"Anymore? Oh my God, did you kill him?"

"Sh! No! We're just done having those stupid little, extremely wrong feelings for each other. I stopped with those feelings a long time ago, anyway."

"Mhm…" Amalie nodded slowly before starting to walk out of the room.

"Oi! Amalie! Get back here! What did you mean by that? Get back here, young lady! Amalie! Ugh! Fine!"


	26. Chapter 26

I adjusted the tight ends of the sleeves of the white three quarter shirt I was wearing. The shoulders were cut out of the shirt and it was loose, tucked into the blue striped pencil skirt I had on that got darker the closer it got to the hem. I threw on some silver bangles, a pair of silver hoop earrings, and a thin silver necklace with an angel on it, the body of the angel made of aquamarine, my birthstone. I stepped into the white four inch pumps I had stolen from my sister just five minutes before. She was still out cold in her bed when I passed her room to get my makeup bag from out of the bathroom where I had left it the day before. I brushed on some light golden brown eyeshadow and lip gloss before making my way downstairs to the kitchen, where I was expecting to find my two parents wide awake and ready to head off to the banquet. There was supposed to be a bit of a rainstorm that could cause some traffic jams, so my dad suggested we leave almost two and a half hours before the banquet started just to make sure we were not late.

The clock was just striking two in the afternoon (yes, Amalie sleeps very late on the weekends), when I walked into the kitchen to find only my mum sitting hunched over at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. Her nose was red with snot dripping out of it, her hair was a mess, her cheeks were about the only part of her with any bit of color, and she was wrapped in her biggest, fluffiest bathrobe. I knew from the horrible cough she gave me as a greeting that there was no way we were going to the banquet today, especially when I heard a similar cough echo from my parents' bedroom where I assumed my father was.

"Do you want me to get you some soup?" I asked, immediately heading toward the cupboard where we kept the cans of soup.

"No, no, Anna," my mum managed to say in a very nasally voice. "I'll be fine. Just don't forget to bring your phone with you to the banquet."

"There's no way I'm going. You and Dad won't be able to drive me there, and you know I'm not comfortable driving distances that long yet, especially if the weather is going to be pretty bad. It's way too late to ask Reggie, too."

"Zayn is going to pick you up. I called him earlier, while you were out for a run."

"Mum, I really don't think that's a-"

"Nonsense! He was willing enough to do it, and I'd much rather have you go with him than try to drive there yourself or with Reggie."

"I don't have to go."

"You most certainly do. You deserve that award. Are you all ready? Zayn should be here any minute."

I twisted the end of my hair nervously. I had let it dry naturally, so it was wavy, and pulled a few strands from the front back, holding them in place with bobby pins. "I'm ready. You know, I'm sure a lot of people won't go because of the weather."

"Their loss, you'll just get more dessert. Good-bye, have a good time."

My mum got up and started to walk toward me to give me a hug, sneezed loudly, and then shuffled off back into the bedroom. I was just starting to come up with a list of ways to get out of going to the banquet with Mr. Malik when I heard a loud knock at the front door. I walked briskly to the door, grabbing my small dark blue clutch off the table in the hall on the way, and threw open the door. Mr. Malik was standing on the second to last step in a gray suit with a white button-up shirt, a tie, and shiny black shoes. For a second I noted that his tie was light blue, which matched my outfit. I quickly pushed the thought away as I stepped out of the house, closing the door carefully behind me so it would not disturb any of the sleeping members of my household.

"You look nice," he mumbled almost inaudibly as I walked by him.

"You, too," I said under my breath, barely even hearing it myself.

That was the most we talked for the next two hours and forty-five minutes it took us to get to the banquet. The worst part was that about forty minutes of the drive had been spent on a long road with nothing but grass on either side, a house popping up every five or six minutes. We got to the banquet twenty minutes before it actually started, but the room was already half full. I had been expecting the tables to be large, maybe fitting eight to twelve people each, but apparently someone had gotten the brilliant idea to let each winner have their own little table with four seats around it. There were far too many tables in the room for me to even count. The top three winners from each individual category had been invited to receive their prizes after dinner, and then the top five overall winners were going to receive their prizes at the very end of all the other awards.

When Mr. Malik and I walked up to the table at the door of the banquet hall, we were asked our name and the school we were from. The woman barely glanced at us before telling us which part of the room our table was. She said if we had any trouble to just look for the name cards on the tables. She looked up after telling us all that to make sure we understood.

"I didn't know there were two winners from the same school," she commented, looking between Mr. Malik and me.

"There weren't," I said a little too sharply. I softened my tone a little before gesturing toward Mr. Malik. "He's my teacher."

"No wonder you won. I'd pay attention if I was in that class, too."

I started walking into the banquet after that, but I saw the quick little smug smile appear on Mr. Malik's face. I suddenly decided that I had walked too far in one direction and stepped back, my heel "accidentally" catching him on the toe. He gave a small gasp of pain as I strolled off toward the part of the room where the woman at the desk had directed us, finding our table easily since it had a centerpiece with a giant, glittery gold "2" sticking out of the large vase of flowers. When Mr. Malik reached the table he was still limping slightly, falling into his chair next to mine with a glare in my general direction. It could not have been meant for me, though. I mean, stepping on him had all been an accident, right?

The banquet started off with a lengthy and wordy speech by the head of the judging panel, a Mr. Brewster, who had apparently read the dictionary at least five times in his life based on some of the words that he was using. When winners of a writing contest like this have to pull out the dictionary app on their iPhone to understand about two-thirds of your sentence, you know you are being a bit over the top. I even saw Mr. Malik furrow his eyebrows a few times out of the corner of my eyes. Not that I cared or anything like that…

Dinner was not served until almost an hour after I had first sat down, which was much too long for my poor growling stomach to have had to wait. I was half expecting a lion to just leap out of my stomach when I saw the servers start to come out with the first course. The servers must have been partying in the back or something because the time between course transitions were abnormally long. The last plate was not cleared until almost seven o'clock. By the time the awards started to get passed out, I thought everyone was going to fall asleep or shoot themselves.

"Do you want me to take a picture when you go up?"

I jumped at Mr. Malik's question since we had not spoken at all since we got to the banquet. "Um, yeah, sure," I said finally. "My parents would probably like that."

The awards for the essay-writing category were passed out second to last before the final awards. I went up to receive my ribbon and certificate for first place, turning to smile at my camera that Mr. Malik was using to take a picture of me in the middle of the row of judges. One of the top judges who had been standing to the left of me in the picture, a man who was probably in his early thirties that was wearing a very expensive looking suit, patted my back as the rest of the judges congratulated me once more while Mr. Malik walked over. I noticed that the man was still patting my back, his hand starting to get lower than between my shoulders. I was just about to step away when Mr. Malik's arm shot across my shoulders, knocking the man's arm away in a second. I would have freaked out but no one was even paying attention to the awards being given. Honestly, I had almost missed my name when it was called.

"You must be very proud," the man said, looking at Mr. Malik with a very cheesy smile.

"She's a great student," Mr. Malik said, giving my shoulders a friendly shake before started to steer me away, back toward our table. "Thank you for giving her the award."

"Thanks," I muttered as we sat back down again.

"He's a strange guy," Mr. Malik said like it was nothing. "He got his secretary pregnant last year when he was engaged to his assistant for a project he was working on. Do you want me to go up with you next time?"

"I'm a big girl, I can handle it."

That plan to go up alone backfired when the judges asked that the teachers go up with the top five student winners so they could all take a picture together. When I received my second place award I was instructed to look at a photographer who was standing off to the side. Mr. Malik was standing a few feet away from me but was motioned by the photographer to stand next to me.

"Move closer," the photographer told us in his cheery voice. "You just won two awards! The least you two could do is smile! And don't act like you're scared of each other."

I tentatively inched closer to Mr. Malik. The photographer was not satisfied until my arm was pressed against Mr. Malik's. When he took the picture, we both had the fakest smiles of our lives on our faces. After one more picture of all the winners, their teachers, their parents, and the judges was taken, everyone started running out of there like crazy. The five top winners were at a disadvantage because we had to move through the mob of people to get our things at our table before we were able to navigate our way out of the banquet hall. Mr. Malik and I rushed as fast as we could, but we ended up being the last two people in the line standing outside, waiting for the valets to bring us our cars. Mr. Malik wanted to get his own car, but the valets had his keys so we had to stand in the cold, something I had not anticipated. When it started to rain a few minutes after we stepped outside, I thought I was going to punch somebody.

"Here, take my jacket," Mr. Malik said quietly, taking off the gray suit jacket.

"No, no," I started to protest, stepping away from him a little. "I'm fine."

"You have goose bumps." He put the jacket around my shoulders before I could back away from him again. He glanced down at the laminated certificate in my hand that had the title of my essay, my placing, the name of the contest, and the date on it in gold letters. "You would have gotten first."

"I did get first."

"In your category, yes, but not overall."

"I got second overall. I still did very well."

"I never said you didn't, I'm just saying that you would have won first if you had submitted your essay on writing."

Maybe it was because there were so many people around, or maybe it was because I was just tired of doing nothing but argue with him lately. "Maybe you're right, but that essay wasn't for them to read. It was for me."

"And not me."

"No, it wasn't for you."

"I know I shouldn't have read it. But, when I found it, I saw the last line, and then I just had to read it."

I knew exactly what line he was talking about. "I guess I see how that would make you curious."

We both watched silently as the valet brought around the car for the family in front of us before asking Mr. Malik for his car model and then heading through the rain at a run. "Was that boy the one who won first place?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Thank God. I didn't want to say anything earlier, just in case, but that boy's poem sucked. He had about as much heart in it as a jellyfish."

I hit Mr. Malik on the arm but let myself smile. "That's rude!"

He shrugged. "It's true. It was about a forest! I mean, I love forest poetry just as much as the next English major, but that's such an overused theme. I think that modern poets should try to capture things from the present day and make metaphors out of them, so two hundred years from now they can look back and make remarks about how our lives are different from theirs."

"What could people use, though? Cell phones? iPods? Plasma televisions? 3-D movies?"

"I don't know. Rollercoasters?"

"Rollercoasters?"

"Yes. I wish someone would write a poem about how you just need to close your eyes and enjoy the rollercoaster that is life."

"That's deep," I remarked dryly.

"That's nothing compared to the rest of the things on my Twitter."

I should not have been surprised since he is only a few years older than me, but I still let my mouth drop open a little. "You have a Twitter?"

Mr. Malik looked to his left and right as if he was searching for something. "What? Who said that?"

"Bonnie and I are so going to find you! And then we'll gather up all your embarrassing tweets and we'll show the whole school!"

"Wouldn't that be considered bullying?"

"You're a teacher, it doesn't count." I stuck my tongue out at him in a very mature manner.

"Well, I can have you expelled." He stuck his tongue out at me in an equally mature manner.

"Fine. We won't show the school."

"Thank you."

"We'll post it on the web and the whole world will see it."

Mr. Malik shook his head. "You have no idea how much I wish I had never met you right now."

The valet pulled up with Mr. Malik's car. I saw Mr. Malik give the car a very detailed onceover before taking the keys from the valet and getting in. The heat was already blasting when I shut the door, stretching my legs out in front of me. I was glad Mr. Malik did not ask for his jacket back because I was still pretty cold. I placed my two certificates and ribbons on the floor of the car as Mr. Malik pulled away.

"Is Will helping you with your new furniture next week?" I asked Mr. Malik. I was thankful that there was no sudden tension after the mention of Will's name.

"Yeah, I think he's coming over around three to help bring the couch and chairs up from the lobby," Mr. Malik responded. "It was way too much to pay the delivery guys to do it."

"Will never really talked about the time when he helped you and Mr. Horan move in. I just assumed it was a one time thing."

"It was fine last time he helped, nothing really special." I could feel a little bit of tension starting to slip into the conversation. "He was the cheapest person we could find."

"Why didn't you ask Louis Tomlinson to help you? He lives around here now."

"You know Lou?"

I nodded. "Family friend."

"Wow, it really is a small world. He said he was busy, anyway. Something about a trip with his girlfriend, his mate, and his mate's girlfriend." I knew that Louis must have been going away with Eleanor, Liam, and Liam's girlfriend Danielle.

"Why couldn't Reggie help?"

"He said he was working on a car with his Uncle Paul that weekend."

"Oh…"

Mr. Malik started to tell me about some interesting events that had happened since he and Mr. Horan had moved into their apartment. At least three or four times he mentioned a woman named Maria that lived in the apartment across from theirs. He said that she was a great cook and had an amazing voice. What had they been doing that enabled him to know that about her? I tried to the best I could to avoid having this question repeatedly pop up in my mind whenever he mentioned her, but the attempts were futile. At around quarter of ten we stopped talking altogether because I was exhausted, having woken up much too early for my liking that morning.

I felt a warm hand tap my knee, causing me to wake up from the light sleep I was in. I saw the time, ten thirty, on the digital clock on the dashboard. As I sat up straighter I realized we had arrived at my house. I unbuckled my seatbelt, handed Mr. Malik his jacket back, and picked up my certificates and ribbons from the ground before stepping out of the car.

"Thanks, Mr. Malik," I said to him through the open door.

"Anytime, Anna," he said.

I shut the door. I saw a dim light still on in my sister's room, so I knew she was probably on her laptop. When I walked into the house I heard both my parents snoring from their room. I took my heels off before walking up the steps, heading into my sister's room to give her back the shoes I had borrowed.

"That was a long banquet," she commented.

I walked out of her room, picking up a sweatshirt of mine from off her floor. "You have no idea."


	27. Chapter 27

"Ew, butter pecan," I remarked as I looked at the large scoop of ice cream resting on the cone in Will's hand.

"Ew, chocolate peanut butter," Will said, making a similar face to mine as we walked down the street.

"Shut up! Everyone loves chocolate peanut butter! It's a classic."

"A classic way to give someone a queasy stomach."

"You have such weird taste."

Will bumped his shoulder against mine lightly. "I've got some pretty good luck, though."

It still surprised me sometimes when Will would randomly say those sweet things. They were just so out of the blue, as if he would feel the need to say them and could not wait until a more appropriate or romantic moment. Somehow, that just made what he said even sweeter. The moment could not have gotten any better. However, Will's mate-that-was-not-his-mate Gerard came strolling around the corner just a few feet in front of us, getting a very strange smile on his face when he saw the two of us. Next to me, I felt Will tense up so much I was afraid if I touched him he would spring thirty feet into the air.

"William Hanks," Gerard said slowly, the smile on his face just growing even wider. "Why, mate, it seems like I haven't seen you in ages."

"Gerard, I will give you three seconds to leave us alone before-" Will started to say in a low, threatening tone that I had never heard out of him.

"Wow! I just can't believe the last time I saw you was yesterday! I mean, you would think I would remember it better considering you were with my ex-girlfriend. You know, Daphne, the girl I was in love with that you basically ripped out of my arms and glued to your groin?"

"_What_?" I snapped at both Gerard and Will.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I almost didn't see you there. What's your name?" Gerard started to reach out his hand but paused, that stupid smile still plastered on his pale, freckled face. "Oh, or is he just giving you numbers now? I mean, I swear I saw Will over here with another girl at a bar the other night, but I'm not totally sure. He's such a wild stallion with the ladies that I can never really keep track." Gerard patted with on the shoulder as he walked by. "Have a nice life, mate."

I stared at Gerard as he sauntered down the street, hands in pockets, whistling as if he did not have a care in the world anymore. Will was leaning against a telephone pole, rubbing his temples.

"What was that about?" I asked, not even bothering to try to keep calm as my voice shook as if an earthquake was happening in my vocal box.

"It was just Gerard being Gerard," Will said in a thin, quiet voice. "That bloke has been giving me trouble since primary school."

"Really, now? And have you been stealing his girlfriends since primary school?"

"Anna, I didn't steal his girlfriend." Will started to reach out toward me, but I pulled my arm back.

"I don't believe you."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Tell me the truth, don't lie to me. Have you gone out with any girls since we became exclusive?"

Will sighed, stretching his back as if he was doing a tedious task. "A few, maybe."

"A few? _Maybe_?"

"They throw themselves at me!"

"And you're just such a saint that you never let them down, right?"

"Anna, you know you're special to me."

"If I'm so special, then why would you cheat on me?"

"I didn't cheat!"

I crossed my arms, leaning back on my hip. "_Bull. Shit_."

"I told you that I don't like sudden change! I told you that I need to ease into things!"

"You've had months to 'ease into' this relationship! What's been the point of stringing me along for all these months, huh?"

"I haven't been stringing you along."

"Then why do I feel like such a fool for staying with you this long?" I pinched the bridge of my nose with my forefinger and thumb. "Ugh! I'm such an idiot! I can't believe I didn't see this before!"

"It's fine that you don't understand, you'll get used to the idea of-"

I threw my ice cream on the ground, completely snapping. "Oh, _I_ am not the one getting used to _any_ ideas. I'm not sticking around with you for another second. Sorry to inconvenience you so much by making such a sudden change, but we are no longer together."

Will reached for my arm. "Come on, Anna, let's go to the boatyard and talk this over and-"

I grabbed his wrist, twisting his arm as I spoke in a quiet, calm voice. "If you touch me, I will kick your ass across the Channel in a heartbeat."

"So I guess it would be a little weird for me to go help Zayn right now?" Will asked me after he struggled to get his arm free. His eyes sparked with sudden anger. "I mean, especially since you'll be there, crying on his shoulder."

I scowled at him. "I don't need anyone to comfort me."

I turned abruptly on my heels, walking down the street swiftly as I tried not to punch threw a window in any of the shops I passed. I was certainly pissed off at Will, but I was even more pissed off at myself for being so naïve and not seeing what was clearly going on in front of me. I did not want anyone to comfort me; comfort was not something I needed. I wanted someone to make me laugh at that moment, and I knew exactly who it was that I needed to go to.

Bonnie, of course.


	28. Chapter 28

When Mr. Malik opened the door he was wearing his glasses and his hair was not full of product so it just hung on his forehead. I saw his eyes widen behind his glasses when he saw me standing at his door. He stepped to the side, opening the door so I could step into the apartment. I saw three doors leading off the small living room and the kitchen. There was currently no couch or any chairs in the living room at all.

"I guess Will wasn't able to make it," Mr. Malik said, flicking a piece of lint off his white t-shirt.

"No," I replied shortly, afraid to go into any detail with Mr. Malik about what had happened with Will. I had originally been on my way to Bonnie's house, but somehow I had ended up at Mr. Malik's. I only knew his address because Will had told me what apartment building he lived in and I just had to ask the person at the lobby desk which room he and Mr. Horan lived in. "I came to help with the moving. Where's Mr. Horan?"

Mr. Malik seemed pretty unconvinced, but he did not question. "He just left to get a quick bite to eat. He won't be back for a couple hours."

"Quick bite to eat? For a couple hours?"

"With Niall and food, that is quick."

"Wow, I knew Mr. Horan liked food, but-"

"Niall."

"Pardon?"

"If you're going to help, call him Niall." Mr. Malik started walking toward the door. "And you can just call me Zayn. For today."

"I won't even get a detention? Oh, happy day!"

Mr. Malik, well, for the day, Zayn, laughed quietly. "Let's go. I could probably do okay with the chairs, but I am definitely going to need some help with that couch."

I laughed, too, following him out of the apartment. Across the hallway, I heard someone singing in their apartment. The voice was soft, but fragile, and one of the most beautiful things I had ever heard. For a second I paused in the hallway, listening to the music as the smell of sugar cookies seeped out from under the door. When Zayn saw me standing still, he grabbed my arm and started pulling me along behind him to the stairs. Down in the main lobby, a couch and three overstuffed chairs were waiting for us. After one look at them, I knew it was no coincidence that Niall had decided to just step out for a "quick bite to eat".

By the time we got the last chair through the door of the apartment and it was set up in a place that was suitable for Zayn, it was almost six o'clock. Niall had still not returned, sending Zayn a short text that said he had gotten preoccupied at a bar he went to. Zayn did not seem too upset by the fact that Niall was not there.

"Are you hungry?" Zayn asked me, starting toward the kitchen area. "I would offer to take you out to eat, but too many people would probably think we were dating."

I breathed in, still smelling the sugar cookies from across the hallway since the smell had penetrated Zayn's apartment, too. "A little," I admitted after a few seconds, walking over to the kitchen, leaning back against the counter.

"I have some pasta." Zayn pulled the box out of the cupboard he had been looking in, shaking it a little so it sounded like a maraca. "Do you like pasta?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Touché."

I hopped up on the counter, swinging my legs slightly as Zayn looked for a pot across the kitchen from where I was. "We could go out to a restaurant, though. No one would think we were dating. I mean, you could do way better than me."

Zayn looked over his shoulder briefly. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, it's true. You're this guy that is extremely attractive, intelligent, funny, thoughtful, thought-provoking, sensitive, and so many other things. Then there is me. I'm nothing special."

Zayn slammed shut the cupboard under the sink where he had been looking, turning to face me and walking toward me quickly. I caught my breath as he got closer, but he stopped about a foot away, as if he had to force himself to stop. I saw his hand twitch by his side, but he kept it there.

"No, to me, you are special. The only place you wouldn't be special would be in an alternate universe, another world. One thing I love about you is that you're so humble. You don't even realize how special, great, amazing, and gorgeous you are, and that's what makes you beautiful. Everything about you makes you beautiful, every last little thing, even the bad. I wish you could see that. Sometimes I stay up all night wondering if there's more than this for us. I even try to convince myself I'll move on, but I won't, because it's gotta be you. I keep making the same mistakes over and over again. I want to go back to those moments when I should have kissed you and just do it. Whenever you walk into my classroom I just want to stand up and tell you that from the first time we spoke you stole my heart. But you're taken now. I know you have plans with Will, and I wish I could save you tonight from him so you could be mine. I can't, though, so just tell me a lie about how you think I'm a good teacher and a good person but Will is the right choice. All I'll hear is 'blah, blah, blah' and 'na, na, na' because I won't want to hear it. After that you can go."

I stared at him, hardly registering anything he had said but yet having nothing else besides his voice swirling around in my head. I bit my lip, trying to think of something, anything at all, that I could say. I wanted to say something just as deep and thoughtful as he had, I wanted to thank him, I wanted to tell him that I was sorry for ever arguing with him or hitting him or hurting him. I wanted to say so much.

"I broke up with Will," I finally managed to say, "because he cheated on me."

"I go through all that and you-" Zayn started to say, his voice beginning to rise, but then he stopped short.

He stared at me with his hazel eyes as I stared back at him with my green ones. He put his hand on my leg as he got closer, reaching out to slide his hand around the back of my neck. I wrapped my arms around him as he kissed me, no hesitation at all from either of us. After a few seconds, he pulled away reluctantly, leaning his forehead against mine.

"We aren't having pasta, are we?" Zayn asked with a small smirk.

I smiled at him, kissing him lightly and quickly before answering. "No," I said quietly. "Not yet, anyway."


	29. Chapter 29

"Good pasta," I commented, leaning against Zayn's shoulder on the couch as I lifted another forkful of pasta to my mouth.

"Very good pasta," Zayn added, taking extreme interest in the last few pieces of spaghetti on his plate.

"Great pasta, really."

"Superb, actually."

"Took us long enough to have it."

"The wait was worth it." Zayn placed his plate on the coffee table very nonchalantly. "It was definitely the best pasta I ever had."

I placed my plate on the table next to his before leaning back against him, kissing him lightly. "What are we going to do?"

Zayn wrapped his arms around me. "You graduate in three weeks."

The only solution I could think of made me want to punch out a window. "So we should just try to stay at a good distance from each other for the next three weeks?"

"I don't want to go three more weeks without you. Just in case it wasn't already blatantly obvious, I'm kind of falling in love with you."

I smiled, kissing him again. "Time machines would make this situation easier. We could just skip ahead three weeks."

"I think I actually saw a time machine out on the curb earlier."

"We should go get it."

"Well, do you know how to work a time machine? I know I sure as hell don't."

"I think I might be able to work it. Can't be too different from driving, right?"

"Don't get it, yet, though, because you still need to pass in your end of the year piece."

I sat up straight, giving him a slightly glaring look. "Seriously? Of all times?"

Zayn shrugged, stretching his arms so that his muscles flexed purposely. "It's a big part of your mark. I'm still your teacher for the next three weeks, and I have no trouble with keeping my work separate from my feelings for you."

"What if I have trouble keeping my feelings for you separate from my work, hm?" I raised an eyebrow. "What if my final piece is a nice, detailed critique on-"

"Zayn!" a voice called from the other side of the door as someone knocked loudly. "Zayn! I forgot my keys again! Can you open the door? By the way, Maria is here!"

I froze at the mention of this Maria girl's name, but Zayn seemed more preoccupied with trying to find wherever his sweatshirt was, throwing it on quickly over his muscle shirt when he found it. He gave me a sharp glance over his shoulder before opening the door for Niall to strut in, flashing me a wide grin as if it was totally normal and acceptable that I was there.

"Hello, Maria," Zayn said as a small elderly woman with a box full of sugar cookies walked into the apartment in her long floral skirt and purple sweater. "Maria, this is Anna, Anna, this is Maria."

"Hello, Anna," Maria said, shoving the cookies at Zayn and walking toward me with a surprisingly healthy smile. "It's so nice to meet you! Zayn has said so much about you!"

"Really?" I asked, shaking the woman's warm, small hand. "Like what?"

"Oh, not much. Just good things."

I saw Zayn quickly mime something behind Maria's head that was along the lines of "She doesn't know I'm your teacher", so I just smiled at her. Maria quickly took hold of my hand again, dragging me over to where the cookies were already lying open on the counter. Niall shoved his third cookie in his mouth before walking into the bathroom. A few seconds later he popped his head out again.

"Zayn, mate," Niall said in a very suspicious tone of voice, "I seem to have lost my left contact. Would you care to be a fine chap and help me find it for a few minutes?"

Zayn did not give a verbal response but just looked at Niall strangely before walking into the bathroom. Maria started to ask me questions, but thankfully they were all about cooking and nothing very personal besides my parent's names. I was careful not to tell her the last name, just in case she knew them from around. She seemed deeply disappointed that she could not talk to me more when Zayn came out of the bathroom with Niall trailing behind him.

"Did you find your contact?" Maria asked Niall.

"What? I don't wear contacts," Niall responded, going in for a few more cookies.

"Anna, I think you should-" Zayn started to say, but I cut him off.

"Go? Yeah, I was just thinking the same thing. It was nice to meet you, Maria. Bye, um, Niall, I'll see you around."

"Mhm," Niall mumbled through his sugar cookie.

Zayn openly grabbed my hand in front of the two, leading me out of the apartment and down the stairs at the end of the hall. Before we got to the lobby he stopped, turning to face me while still holding my hand. I was not letting go anytime soon. I would have intertwined my fingers with his just to prove my point, but that had already been done.

"I think for the next three weeks," Zayn said slowly, "I should just be your teacher. But, you're eighteen, so, the moment, and I mean the _moment_, you have officially graduated from St. Beatrice's, I want you in my arms."

"Will I at least get one phone call?" I asked, trying to add some humor.

"Of course. Your parents won't like this, you know. They loved Will. Besides, they'll know something was going on during the school year if we start seeing each other this summer."

"We'll just be careful. We're both smart."

He leaned his forehead against mine, causing me to catch my breath a little bit. "We just fell for each other in the stupidest situation."

"I thought we were still falling."

"You never stop falling in an abyss."

I kissed him, taking my time because I knew it was the last time I would kiss him for some time. "Now I see why you majored in English."


	30. Chapter 30

"Why are you in such a rush?" my mum asked me as she snapped yet another picture of me in my outfit from graduation that afternoon. "You have all the free time in the world now!"

"I already told you," I said in a very annoyed voice, "that I am going out to dinner with Bonnie and Reggie tonight as a celebration that we all graduated."

"Well, for Bonnie, I guess that is something to celebrate," my dad muttered as he sat down at the kitchen table. "But don't make any plans for tomorrow. We're going out to celebrate with your grandmother and grandfather."

"I know, I know. I'll see you when I get back. I'll even buy a huge slice of cake for us all to share."

"Get two slices if we're all going to be sharing. Your sister has been eating like a horse lately."

"I heard that!" Amalie shouted from up in her room. "Have fun tonight, Anna!"

I got a slight knot in my stomach as I realized that I had probably been talking in my sleep again, and with Amalie's mind, who knows what she could have meant by that. I smiled to Harry when I passed him by the mailbox, smiling even more when I saw Zayn's car sitting at the corner. I got in the passenger seat after making sure there was no one watching us, especially since I come from a slightly nosy and gossipy neighborhood.

"You look very nice," Zayn remarked after looking at me for less than a second. He started to drive, heading in the direction opposite his apartment. "I wanted to tell you that at the ceremony, but…"

"Thank you," I said. "Um, I thought we were going to your flat for a fancy, homemade dinner?"

"There's been a change of plans."

"Where are we going?" I asked very quickly, starting to get nervous.

"Calm down, no one will see us."

I looked at him skeptically but faced forward again, deciding against any urges I had to question him further about where we were going. It must have taken us almost forty-five minutes to an hour before we pulled over on the side of the road that we had taken to the banquet, the one that was surrounded on both sides by nothing but grass. Zayn ran over to my side of the car, opening the car door for me. I got out after a short hesitation, still unsure about what was going on.

"Are we having dinner?" I asked him as my stomach gave an involuntary growl.

"Yes, it's in the back," Zayn said. He waved toward the grass with his hand. "Go pick a spot. I have a blanket."

I watched him jog around to the back of the car before walking out onto the warm grass, finding a spot about twenty meters away from the car. When I turned, Zayn was already walking toward me with a huge basket and a large blanket tucked under his arm. I took the blanket from him once he had reached me, spreading it out evenly on the ground so we could both sit on it, right next to each other. Zayn opened the basket after placing it down carefully, pulling out the contents to show me what our meal would consist of.

"Pasta," he said, pulling out the plastic bowl containing pasta and sauce that had steam on the sides because of how hot it was. "A variety of Maria's cookies." He pulled out the plastic bag with a mix of sugar, peanut butter, and chocolate chip cookies. "A salad, to make up for all the cookies we're about to eat." He put the second plastic bowl next to the one that had the pasta in it. "Since this is a special occasion, the best wine I could afford on a teacher's salary." He put the bottle of wine and two glasses on the most even part of the ground that he could find. "And finally, my favorite part…"

Zayn pulled me close to him, kissing me. A few seconds later, we were lying on the blanket. I stopped kissing him for a second to ask him something.

"What if someone drives by on that road?" I asked him quietly, even though there was no one else around to hear.

"They'll see the luckiest guy in the world with the most beautiful girl he's ever met," Zayn responded, smiling warmly.

"The downside to you being so interested in literature is that you say some really cliché things."

"Technically, it's not cliché, because whoever originally said that may have felt this way, but it wasn't about you. That was about you. I truly do feel like the luckiest man in the world with you because you really are the most beautiful girl I've ever met."

I shook my head a little. "The cliché remarks just keep on coming."

Zayn brushed a strand of hair out of my face that had fallen loose from behind my ear. "I really hope someday you see how beautiful you are. Then again, I don't, because then you might realize that I don't deserve you and you could do better than me."

I put my hand over his. "I could never do better than you. Apparently the luckiest man in the world is forgetting he is also the handsomest man in the world."

He smirked. "Okay, now you're being cliché. I'm handsome, but not _that_ handsome."

I leaned down more so my nose was touching his. "I beg to differ."


	31. Chapter 31

When I heard a knock at the front door of my house, I took my lips off of Zayn's and reluctantly got off the swing. I wondered who could possibly be at the door. Both my parents were at work, and Amalie was at rehearsal for the next few hours. Besides, everyone in my family would have a key to get in, and I would not have been stupid enough to have Zayn over at a time when they would be expected home at any minute. I was just about to cross over the threshold into the kitchen when my sandal caught, causing me to go sprawling onto the floor.

Zayn rushed over, helping me up off the floor that I was now wishing I had washed the day before as my mum had asked me to. Admittedly, I pretended to struggle a little just so Zayn would have to put his arms around me and pull me up, showing off some of his muscles as he did so. I still could not get over the fact that I no longer had to pretend as if I did not like him and keep at a distance.

"Thank you," I said, pecking him on the cheek for good measure, just because I could.

"Anytime, love," Zayn said, smiling at more than just the verbal gratitude.

The knocking continued, causing Zayn and I to roll our eyes in unison before Zayn pulled his arms away from me slowly. I walked toward the door as Zayn headed back out onto the patio, just in case he had to make a quick getaway or something like that. I was starting to think, due to the impatient knocking, that the person at the door was either Bonnie, home early from shopping with her mum, or Amalie, who probably left practice early after a fight with Baxter (who she still claimed to "hate", by the way). I was so sure that it was one of the two of them that I did not even bother to peak out the small, narrow window next to my door to see who was standing on my doorsteps. When I turned the brass knob of the door and pulled it open, my jaw could not have hit the floor any faster.

"Will?" I breathed, almost not believing what I was seeing.

"Miss me?" he asked dryly, his hands in his pocket, looking up at me with a shy look that did not fit his features well at all.

"What are you doing here?" My volume did not raise much from the first word I had said since I was not sure how intently Zayn was trying to listen from the patio.

"What?"

I groaned, stepping out onto the steps and closing the door a small amount behind me. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to apologize."

"Almost a month later?" Oh, yeah, I was almost forgetting that he always needed to take a while to "ease into" things. Apparently that even counted for guilt.

"I didn't have the balls to come earlier."

"Look, Will, I'm-"

Will craned his neck to look into the house, as if he was searching for something. "Is Zayn here?" he asked in a hard tone.

I crossed my arms, leaning back. "What would it matter to you?"

"Are you kidding me? After all this, you go to him? After this whole year of 'nothing happening' you suddenly go to him?"

"Well, you liked to go to every other girl in town when you were actually with me, so I don't see why it's so bad that I'm seeing him after what you did."

"Is that what he is? A rebound? Someone you don't really have feelings for?"

"Did you ever consider that you were the one I didn't have feelings for?"

"I know you have feelings for me. You can't deny them."

"I deny them. See? That was really quite easy."

"Listen, I know you may think Zayn is this really great bloke, but he is not. After he and I got in an argument when I helped him move in, I started to leave, but then I realized I hadn't gotten paid yet. When I went back to ask for the money, I heard him talking to Niall about you. He wasn't exactly saying nice things."

"Like what?" I could not help myself from asking.

"All these really rude things, about how he would 'treat you well' and such."

"I don't believe you."

"I know I seem like a jackass, but I was just scared, okay? I was scared to be in a serious relationship again. The last relationship I had was with this girl named Ellie. We were together for three years. When she broke up with me, my best friend had to be by my side with the largest box of tissues he could find. Ellie tore my heart out, shredded it, stepped on it after shredding it, set fire to it, and put the fire out with dirty water before she pulverized it." He was starting to get so choked up and emotional at the end of that that I could not bring myself to consider that he was lying. He wiped the corner of his eye self-consciously before looking at me with slightly reddened cheeks. "But then I remembered how happy I was when I was with you, and I want you back. I want you back so much. I think we should take it slow, again, but not as slow as last time, and I promise I will never hurt you again. When I saw your reaction to what I had done, I…I…" He bit his lip, looking off to the side.

"Will, I'm with Zayn right now. I love him."

Will looked at me closely before shaking his head. "No, you don't. You don't love him. You've still got nothing more than a serious schoolgirl crush on him, and he's just taking advantage of that. He's been taking advantage of your feelings for him all year."

I started to reach for the door. "You don't know anything."

"I know you still care for me."

"I know I never did."

Will reached out, grabbed my shoulders, and pulled me against him. I tried to push away but he forced my lips against his. I struggled as much as I could, but Will was much stronger than me and my efforts were completely futile. Even when I kicked him it seemed to have no effect at all on him.

"Anna!"

Will was pushed off of me by a very pissed off, very protective looking Zayn. Will did not fall but just stumbled back, the edges of his lips trying not to go up into a smirk. I tried to turn to Zayn for comfort, but he put his hand on my shoulder, holding me at arm's length away. I saw the mistrusting look in his eyes and knew he thought that the kiss was more than just one-sided.

"She threw herself all over me, mate," Will said, the smirk still trying to break through. "I tried to stop her, but-"

"You jackass!" I screamed at Will, not giving a damn about whether the neighbors would hear me or not. "You are such a freakin' jackass!"

"What happened?" Zayn asked with extremely forced calmness.

"He came back and he was saying all this stuff-"

"She wants me back," Will cut in. "You can see it in her eyes, mate, you know it's true. This little thing you two had going on…it will never work. No one will ever approve of it. It's you or me, and I'm the better choice. Everyone knows it, except for Anna. If you really love her, you have to let her go."

Zayn stared at me for so long that I thought maybe he had not even heard what Will had said. "You're right, Will," Zayn finally said, his voice hoarse and cracking a little. "Don't ever harm her, okay? If I find out you have, I'll come and find you and that will be the last anyone will ever hear of you." Zayn had never stopped looking into my eyes the entire time he was talking. He stepped forward kissing me gently on the forehead and leaving his lips there as he finished talking. "Don't go after me. This is for you. You and everyone else will be happier, trust me. I love you, Anastasia."

He got off the steps, walked down the stone path, got in his car, and drove away down the street. The smirk finally came through on Will's face as Zayn Malik drove out of my life.


	32. Chapter 32

I stretched on my bed after I woke up, looking around my room with slightly blurred vision before everything came into focus. When I stretched out my arm a little more, it hit something warm on the bed next to me. I smiled at the sight of Will sleeping quietly and peacefully next to me, his equivalent of a contented smile on his face. One of the few times he really looked at ease with himself and with others was when he was fast asleep, dreaming about Lord knows what. I reached out, stroking the side of his head gently. He stretched his neck slightly, the contented smile getting just a little bit bigger.

"I love you, Will," I whispered to him quietly.

"_Meow_," William Turner, Amalie's new cat she had gotten at the beginning of the school year, purred in a groggy way. He rolled his small cat body over, annoyed that I had disturbed his slumber.

"Anna!" Amalie shouted from downstairs, causing the tabby cat to leap off my bed and shoot out the door in a heartbeat. He always did that when he heard Amalie's voice. "Get down here and bring the rubbish out!"

"I just woke up!" I shouted back to her as a smile spread on my face. I had only been back from Scotland for a couple days for Christmas holiday, and it already felt like I had never left home. Sometimes I hated that feeling, but other times it was nice, and a little comforting. "I'll be down in a second!"

Less than and hour later I was ready to hit the streets with Bonnie and Reggie, feeling a bit anxious since this was the first time I had seen them since I went off to St. Andrew's. I had seen pictures of Bonnie with her new shoulder length hair that she apparently always straightened now, but I had yet to see how she looked in person. When I did see her, I almost had a heart attack because of how simply gorgeous she looked. Reggie looked exactly the same as always, except he could not take his eyes off of Bonnie even more than before.

I spent the entire day with my two best friends, surprisingly happy to be back in London. At about eight o'clock, after we got some fish and chips from the old shack where we were surprised to learn Harry was not working anymore, we went to Pemberley's where they were hosting a karaoke night. Bonnie was so excited that she did not even sit down before heading right up to the stage, stealing the microphone right out of the hands of the man who was up there singing a very bad rendition of an old honky-tonk song.

Harry Styles came running up to us out of nowhere, his huge mouth in an even huger smile. Trailing along behind him was an extremely pretty, petite girl with brown hair and green eyes. One of her hands was in Harry's and she dragged the other through her hair quickly.

"Hey, Anna, Reggie," Harry said cheerfully. "I didn't know you two were back in town. It's great to see you!"

"You, too," Reggie said. "Bonnie's over there." He pointed up at the stage where Bonnie was attempting to belt out a Whitney Houston song. "You aren't working at the fish and chips shack anymore?"

"Nope. I'm working at a bakery near Brunel." She put an arm around the girl, giving her a quick one-armed hug. "The best part is, I work right next to the boutique where this beautiful brunette works."

The girl blushed a little before Harry led her away, saying a quick good-bye to us before he and the girl went out the door. When he opened the door, a sharp, freezing cold breeze came in, causing me to get goose bumps all up and down my arms.

"Hey, is that Liam and Louis?" Reggie asked, looking over my shoulder as we sat down.

I looked back to see Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson sitting at a table with Eleanor and another very pretty girl that I was assuming was Danielle. "Yeah, it is," I said. Liam and Louis looked over once they realized we had seen them, giving us a wave and a smile. I was just about to wave back to them when Louis's attention was suddenly caught by someone who must have just walked in through the door behind me. I could feel the tail end of the wind gust that always seemed to enter Pemberley's when someone opened the door.

The small goose bumps I had received from the cold were quickly replaced by much bigger ones when I felt warm lips placed against my lips, the words from them coming out in hot breaths.

"Your prince charming has arrived," Zayn said with a little bit of a forced raspy tone, something he knew I absolutely loved. Zayn straightened up, pulling a seat over right next to mine and sitting in it. "Sorry, I'm late. Niall was taking forever in the shower."

"I was cold!" Niall defended as he sat across from us, to the right of Reggie. "And the water was warm!"

"It's okay," I said. "You're here now, that's all that matters."

"And you call me cliché."

I shot Zayn a playful glare before kissing him. Less than a couple minutes later I felt a tap on my shoulder, causing Zayn and I to pull away from each other quickly when we remembered we were in a public place.

"I'm sure your mum wouldn't approve of that too much," Louis said, raising his eyebrows at me before looking to Zayn and Niall. "Hey, mates, haven't seen you around lately."

"I've got a lot of paperwork to correct over holiday," Zayn responded.

"Me, too," Niall said. "History essays take the longest to correct. How has the old team been doing? I haven't been able to keep up."

"I don't really keep up with them, either," Louis admitted. "I'm a bit too busy with school, Brunel's team, and-" he looked at Eleanor while wiggling his eyebrows before turning back to us. "They're probably doing well, th-"

"Liam!" Bonnie screeched into the microphone, causing everyone in Pemberley's to look up at her with startled eyes. Reggie and I just shook our heads at her. "Get up here and sing!"

"What?" Liam stammered, looking extremely confused. "Why?"

"Because there's a microphone! Now get up here!"

Harry stumbled back into Pemberley's with his girl right behind him, looking around frantically as if he was looking for something. "I forgot my wallet," he explained briefly when he saw the look Reggie was giving him.

"Get up here!" Bonnie continued to shout at Liam. "Or I'll tell Danielle all your embarrassing stories!"

"I love to sing!" Liam shouted, rushing onto the stage and taking the microphone from Bonnie with a small death glare aimed at her. He scratched his head and cleared his throat before raising the microphone to his lips. "Hey, people in Pemberley's. Uh…I'm going to sing a song. And Louis Tomlinson is going to join me!"

Louis was bewildered for a moment before slapping on a huge smile, strolling up to the stage with confidence oozing out of every pour in his body. When he took the microphone from Liam, he had a very mischievous expression that made everyone who knew him a bit uneasy.

"We are also going to be joined by Zayn Malik and Niall Horan," Louis announced. He quickly scanned Pemberley's, getting a very excited look when he saw Harry still searching for his wallet near the table he had just been at. "And Harry Styles!"

Harry did not even hesitate before jumping up on the stage, throwing off his coat dramatically. Zayn and Niall were both a little bit less certain as they slowly stood up, walking toward the stage with small, reluctant steps. The five boys got in a huddle for a few seconds before Louis went over to the machine, choosing the song they were going to sing. When the music for the song started up, everyone knew exactly what song they had chosen and a few people even got small smiles on their faces at the sound of the first few chords. Liam started off the song, facing Danielle as he sang the first verse.

"_You're insecure, _

_don't know what for_

_You're turning heads when you walk through the do-o-or_

_Don't need make-up - to cover up_

_Being the way that you are is eno-o-ough"_

I knew Liam was a good singer, but I had never known that he was that good. When Harry began to sing, I was even more blown away because I had never been aware at all that he had so much talent. Do not even get me started on when the boys started to sing together for the chorus.

"_Everyone else in the room can see it _

_Everyone else but you _

_Baby you light up my world like nobody else _

_The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed _

_But when you smile at the ground, _

_it ain't hard to tell _

_You don't know _

_Oh oh _

_You don't know you're beautiful! _

_If only you saw what I could see _

_You'll understand why I want you so desperatley _

_Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe _

_You don't know _

_Oh oh _

_You don't know you're beautiful! _

_Oh oh _

_That's what makes you beautiful!"_

When Zayn started to sing, he was looking right at me, looking straight into my eyes from across the room. I felt my heart melt a little bit more with every word he sang, his voice making weird things happen in my brain. I was not aware that anyone else was even present in the room as I listened to his amazing voice. It was not amazing…it was ama-Zayn.

"_So girl come on,_

_you got it wrong_

_To prove I'm right I put it in a so-o-ong_

_I don't know why, _

_you're being shy_

_And turn away when I look in to your eye eye eyes"_

I was still so in shock about Zayn and his voice that I could barely register what else was happening on the stage for the rest of the song. I did, however, notice that at one point, during his solo, Harry jumped right off the stage and started singing to the girl he was there with.

"_Everyone else in the room can see it _

_Everyone else but yo-ou _

_Baby you light up my world like nobody else _

_The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed _

_But when you smile at the ground, it ain't hard to tell _

_You don't know _

_Oh oh _

_You don't know you're beautiful! _

_If only you saw what I can see _

_You'll understand why I want you so desperately _

_Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe _

_You don't know _

_Oh oh _

_You don't know you're beautiful! _

_Oh oh _

_That's what makes you beautiful! _

_Na na na na na na naaaa na na, _

_Na na na na na na. _

_Na na na na na na naaaa na na, _

_Na na na na na na. _

_Baby you light up my world like nobody else _

_The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed_

_But when you smile at the ground, it ain't hard to tell _

_You don't know _

_Oh oh _

_You don't know you're beautiful! _

_Baby you light up my world like nobody else _

_The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed _

_But when you smile at the ground, it ain't hard to tell _

_You don't know no _

_Oh oh _

_You don't know you're beautiful! _

_If only you saw what I can see _

_You'll understand why I want you so desperately_

_Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe _

_You don't know know _

_Oh oh _

_You don't know you're beautiful! _

_No _

_Oh oh _

_You don't know you're beautiful! _

_No _

_Oh oh _

_That's what makes you beautiful!" _

Once the music had ended, the boys still stood there, looking out at the people watching them and applauding wildly at their great performance. They were all smiling, looking at each other with approving looks. Only a few seconds after the music ended, though, Zayn lifted the microphone back up to his mouth, pointed across the room at me, and sang one extra line all by himself, his voice resonating all around me.

"_That's what makes you beautiful."  
_


	33. Epilogue

I zipped up the suitcase full of clothes that I was bringing back to St. Andrew's as I did my final packing. Despite that fact that I was extremely happy to go back to St. Andrew's, I was still upset that Christmas holiday was over so soon. I had said my last good-byes to Bonnie, Reggie, and Zayn earlier that day, tearing up a little at each of them.

As I was taking my laptop off my desk I noticed a couple pieces of paper lying next to it. When I looked closer I realized it was the essay I had written on writing, the one Zayn had found months ago. I had decided at the very last minute that that essay was going to be my end of the year piece. Since I passed mine in last, Zayn had corrected it last, and I had not gotten it back by the time I graduated.

Obviously, I did end up getting it back, on the day when Will had come to ask me to get back together with him. A little over an hour after Zayn had driven away (I had to give myself a decent amount of time to curse out Will and throw every cuss word I had in my vocabulary at him), I made my way to his flat. When he opened the door I refused to even pay attention to his response before going into a whole speech along the lines of: "What just happened back there was pointless. I love you, and you love me, and we take whatever comes our way together. We do _not_ run away when the other is in pain, even if it puts us in even more pain. There's a reason I never even thought about Will after I was with you, and that's because I'm so in love with you I don't even realize other men exist anymore. Now, I'm going to overlook your small lapse in judgment back there solely because of how much I love you, but-" He had cut me off by kissing me and all that fun, love-making stuff that he and I do. That evening, before I left his flat, he had finally decided to give me back the essay, claiming that it just kept "slipping his mind" to return it to me.

I picked up the papers off the desk, walking over to my bed and sitting down with crossed legs. All over my house my mum and dad were shouting and making a racket as they worried about making sure I had everything before I went back to St. Andrew's. Amalie was not helping that much because she was just continually yelling about how she was late for her rehearsal and would have her part taken away from her if she did not get to the theater at that very moment. I blocked out all their noise, something I had learned to do a while ago, especially with Amalie. I smoothed out the paper with my hand before reading it.


	34. The Essay: An Apple for Teacher

**An Apple for Teacher**

In an average, everyday pocket dictionary, the definition of the word "write" consists of three words and one abbreviation: "form (words, letters, etc.)". Then again, considering the same dictionary also defines love as "strong affection", it is not surprising that the definition of write is something that could easily be contradicted. As would be expected, to many people, the dictionary definition of write would be the one and only definition they could think of. However, to many others, including myself, "write" is a word that is about more than just forming words and letters. "Write" is something that is closely intertwined with the words "love" and "life" in my mind.

From the moment I learned how to write the letters of the alphabet, I have loved to write. I adored the ability to be able to create virtually anything I wanted with nothing but a thin piece of wood and graphite in my hand. Despite my great love for writing as a child, I never took it very seriously. Of course, I was that child that wrote short stories on scraps of paper and attempted to illustrate them, but I never really put anything very special into my stories.

One day when I was eleven I was visiting Bradford with my mum, for some reason or another, I saw a boy a few years older than me writing in a notebook on a bench next to the store we were standing outside of. I was always curious when I was younger, and I asked him what he was writing. He seemed extremely shy but muttered something about writing a good-bye letter from his whole class to a teacher they all liked very much. I asked him if it was any good, and his response was that it was "very emotional". That struck me as something very odd, seeing as I had never known writing to be anything extremely emotional before that, but asked him a few further questions, including what the title was. He simply said it was "An Apple for Teacher" before my mum and I went into the store.

That day I realized that writing was not just something I could use to express my thoughts and imagination on paper in a way that everyone would understand. On that very same day, I realized that writing was a way to let others see into your soul. A pen was no longer a pen to me, but something magical that allowed me to transfer pieces of my soul onto a blank sheet of paper, filling it with myself, no matter what words I chose. Writing was not something that I just liked to do anymore; it became something I loved because it enabled me to become a whole person, which I now realized I had not been all along.

The greatest thing about writing is sharing it with others, seeing their reaction to realizing something new about a person they have known their whole life just by the way a person formed a sentence. Plenty of people complain about how much they hate reading and wish books never existed, but without the ability to read, we would never truly know anyone around us. People do not hold themselves back when they write because it is not as if they are talking to another person, they are just writing on paper. People know that the paper will not judge them just because of what they think as an individual.

These few paragraphs barely begin to scratch the surface of what writing truly is, of what writing really means to many people. The impact that writing has on the world is something that no one may ever be able to define in words. Very few people can really pinpoint that time in their life when they realized just how vital writing was to them and their well-being. I am grateful to remember that, and to be able to look back and relive that moment of realization over and over again in both waking and sleeping dreams. I will forever be grateful to the boy who wrote "An Apple for Teacher" because he is the reason I am who I am today.


	35. The Lost Chapter: Between 4 & 5

When I walked into the Creative Writing and Literary Analysis classroom, I found that all the girls in the class had their hands raised. Mr. Malik, standing up at the front of the class in his usual stance of leaning against the desk, turned his head to look at me. No one else noticed how quickly he looked away once he had seen who it was.

"Sorry I'm late," I muttered quietly, walking over to my desk at the opposite end of the room. I think I even picked up my pace a little when I walked by Mr. Malik, just to make sure I did not catch the least bit of a scent of his cologne. I still had flashbacks to the night two weeks before when I had danced with him if I did something even as simple as get within scent-distance. "I needed help with a homework problem after class. Whatever it is, I agree too."

I raised my hand to emphasize this as I sat in my seat, placing my writing notebook down on the desk carefully. I thought I saw the edges of Mr. Malik's mouth twitch into almost a smile when he saw me raise my hand, but he quickly went back to having a totally straight face.

"I was just telling the class that I found about ten boxes of old classics in storage in the basement and I want to clean them out," Mr. Malik explained to me, even though his eyes were fixated on a point somewhere just above my head. "There are a few empty bookcases in the back of the room so I wanted to put some of the nicer copies of the books back there. I was just in the process of looking for a volunteer to help me after-school today. Thanks for volunteering, Anna, it shouldn't take too long."

"But-"

I was cut short by a mixture of envious glares from the girls and "ha-ha, sucker" looks from the boys. I sank a little bit lower into my seat as Mr. Malik got up, moving over to the board to write the name of a poem we were going to be reading and analyzing that day. On my way out of the classroom, Mr. Malik casually told me to meet him at the staircase that led down to the storage area of the basement. I was not sure whether to smile like an idiot or puke on the spot from anxiety. I just nodded and shuffled out of the room, my cheeks getting a little warm when I thought I felt him watching my back as I left.

I was paranoid all day that people would tease me if they heard I had been enlisted to help Mr. Malik sort out the old books, but most people who found out were either indifferent or, especially the girls, jealous. I made sure to take my sweet, sweet time getting to the door to the basement. When I got there I was surprised to find the door already open, three dusty old cardboard boxes stacked up just to the left of it. I heard Mr. Malik before I saw him, mostly because his face was covered by the next cardboard box he was bringing up. When he dropped it down on the ground we both coughed a little because of the amount of dust that came flying off of it.

"I'm glad you finally showed up," Mr. Malik remarked, starting to walk back down the stairs. "There must be a lot of books because these boxes are pretty heavy. We won't be able to go through all of them. I'll just bring up the last one."

"What? You think just because I'm a girl I can't carry a box up a flight of stairs?" I called down, my voice cracking just the slightest bit as I tried to keep myself calm. He seemed calm enough, so why could I not keep my emotions in check?

Mr. Malik stopped half-way down the stairs, turning to look up at me with a wry smile. "Oh, I have no doubt you can, that's why you're bringing all the boxes up to my room. I'd get started now. It took me fifteen minutes to bring those up the stairs, and it's a much longer walk to my room from here than you would think."

I swung my book bag over my shoulder before picking up what looked like it was the lightest box and starting to make my way to Mr. Malik's room. He was right, it was a much farther walk than I was expecting, and the box was not exactly full of feathers. If you put a couple ten thousand pieces of paper in one box, it can get to be a bit heavy. When I got to Mr. Malik's room I almost threw the box on the desk, my book bag sliding off my shoulder onto the floor at my feet.

"Not very fun, is it?"

I turned to say something snappy to Mr. Malik before I realized he was carrying two of the boxes. I rushed over, taking the box on top and setting it down on the desk next to where I had just placed the other one. Without a word, Mr. Malik put his box on the ground and turned to go get another one. I rushed out of the room behind him so he would not try to be Superman again and try to carry two of the boxes. He could seriously hurt his back if he did that too many times considering the distance.

"I can get the last two," he said, turning a corner at the end of the hall at a very sharp angle. "You can go start sorting the books."

"No, you might hurt yourself if you try to carry the other two back by yourself," I told him. "After that, you might hurt yourself carrying just one."

"Then you can help me carry that one. It took longer to move them to my room than I was expecting, so we can just leave the other one there. I'll get someone else to volunteer later this week to help with the rest of the sorting."

"Are they going to volunteer or are you going to choose them without their consent?"

"You raised your hand."

"I thought we were voting on something."

Mr. Malik tossed back a smirk. "You still raised your hand."

We argued about the reason behind me raising my hand for the rest of the walk to the place where the last two boxes were waiting. At the same time we both reached for the same box, lifting it up to start carrying it back. It was not until halfway to the classroom that I realized Mr. Malik's right hand was totally covering mine. I could not move it because the box would fall, and I spent the rest of the walk to the classroom praying that my palms had not been sweating too much.

Mr. Malik had me go through the contents of the first box I had brought up while he went through the books in another box. It takes much longer than you would expect to flip through the pages of a classic to make sure there are not too many pages with tears or any markings on them. I threw all the crappy, beat-up books into one pile on the floor and all the partially decent ones in another pile. I was almost done sorting through a second boxful when I heard Mr. Malik get up from where he was sitting on one of the desks. We had moved the piles of bad books on the floor into one of the empty boxes that was on the desk in between the one I was sitting at and the one he had been sitting on.

"I forgot I had this," Mr. Malik said, opening up a closet at the back of the room. He pulled out a cordless radio, placed it on the one of the desks in the back of the room, and tuned it to a station. "You don't mind if I play this, right?"

"Do I look insane?" I asked him. "Of course I don't mind!" I looked around at the stacks of decent books that we had moved onto some of the desks over near the bookcases. "Do you think we have enough books sorted to put them away?"

"Yeah, I think that will be enough for today. Thanks for helping, I just realized I hadn't said that yet."

"It's fine. It's not like I was forced against my will or anything."

I got up, walking over to the back of the room to start putting the books on the bottom shelf of one of the bookcases. When I turned to get a couple more books I almost walked right into Mr. Malik. "Sorry," we both mumbled, side-stepping around each other awkwardly. After I had grabbed a few more books I turned to put them on the bookshelf, almost bumping right into Mr. Malik again.

"Are we going to keep doing this?" he joked.

I just laughed quietly before stepping to the side, letting him take a few more books for himself to put on the shelf. I decided to distract myself from the fact that I was so close to Mr. Malik, especially since we were in a corner of the room, by listening to the song that was playing on the radio. Of course, it had to end just as I decided that. I almost groaned out loud but I was afraid that might provoke an unnecessary question from Mr. Malik that he would want to be answered. Just as I was standing up again, "She Will Be Loved" by Maroon 5 started to play.

"Oh, I love this song," I commented with a smile.

I turned a little to see if Mr. Malik had any reaction to what I said, but he just looked like he was trying to conceal a smile of his own. I turned to pick up another book, _David Copperfield_ to be specific, when I felt a hand placed tentatively against my waist. I spun, most likely hitting Mr. Malik in the face with my hair at a dangerous rate because of how fast I turned. He did not say anything, just kept his hand on my waist and took my other hand in his. It took me a second before I realized that I should put my hand on his shoulder, something I probably did all too eagerly.

_Beauty queen of only eighteen  
She had some trouble with herself  
He was always there to help her  
She always belonged to someone else_

"You don't have to stand so far away," Mr. Malik said lightly with the smile he had been trying to conceal completely visible. "Girls only dance that far away from guys if they don't care about them or think they're disgusting."

I laughed quietly, looking down at my feet. When I looked up again I saw that Mr. Malik's face was completely serious now, no smile or joking there. I stepped closer, so much so that my arm was completely around his neck, my hand moving to rest on his other shoulder. His arm moved so he was wrapping it around my whole waist. I rested my head in the crook of his neck as he leaned his head down. I could feel his breath against my ear and the back of my neck. We started to dance, stepping back and forth slowly to the beat.

_I don't mind spending everyday  
Out on your corner in the pouring rain  
Look for the girl with the broken smile  
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile  
And she will be loved  
She will be loved_

Tap on my window knock on my door  
I want to make you feel beautiful  
I know I tend to get so insecure  
It doesn't matter anymore

It's not always rainbows and butterflies  
It's compromise that moves us along, yeah  
My heart is full and my door's always open  
You can come anytime you want

I don't mind spending everyday  
Out on your corner in the pouring rain  
Look for the girl with the broken smile  
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile  
And she will be loved  
And she will be loved  
And she will be loved  
And she will be loved

I know where you hide  
Alone in your car  
Know all of the things that make you who you are  
I know that goodbye means nothing at all  
Comes back and begs me to catch her every time she falls

Tap on my window knock on my door  
I want to make you feel beautiful

I don't mind spending everyday  
Out on your corner in the pouring rain  
Look for the girl with the broken smile  
Ask her if she wants to stay awhile  
And she will be loved  
And she will be loved  
And she will be loved  
And she will be loved

_Please don't try so hard to say goodbye  
Please don't try so hard to say goodbye_

_Yeah_

_I don't mind spending everyday_

_Out on your corner in the pouring rain_

_Try so hard to say goodbye_

I let my hand slip out of Mr. Malik's, but I still stayed with my arm around his shoulders and my head in the crook of his neck for a couple seconds longer before I stepped away from him. "Thanks for the help," Mr. Malik said, looking to the side at the books as he put his hands in his pocket. "And the dance," I added. He nodded, looking like he wanted to say more. He did not say anything else besides, "I think we've done enough sorting for the day. I'll see you next class, then. Have a nice night, Anastasia."

"Only my parents call me Anastasia, and that's just when they're mad at me," I told him, walking over to where my book bag was still lying on the floor. "It's just Anna, there's really no need for the extra syllables. It takes quite a bit of energy to say."

"Maybe it's worth the energy," Mr. Malik suggested, shrugging a little.

I shook my head, moving toward the door. "Nah, not for something like 'have a nice night'." I paused in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. "People usually choose not to waste energy on casual things like that. They, for the most part, only choose to waste energy on the things that are most important to them in their lives."

"Like on something they would be willing to die for?"

I nodded. "Yeah, like on something they would be willing to die for."

* * *

**_Author's Note: Thanks for reading! :) The sequel is "Not Him" and it's about Amalie and Niall and what was going on with them throughout this whole same year. It should be up by tomorrow or Tuesday._**


End file.
